


A Moment of Magic

by CelestePhantasm



Category: Night at the Museum (2006 2009)
Genre: F/M, Reader-Insert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-06
Updated: 2015-07-09
Packaged: 2018-03-16 14:14:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 112,943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3491381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CelestePhantasm/pseuds/CelestePhantasm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On a poor excuse for a vacation, (Name) gets lost in the unfamiliar city and seeks a moment of peace in the Museum of Natural History—surely she can have some time to think in such a quiet place. Indeed, she finds herself enjoying the vacation more than expected, until a call brings her world down around her, and in desperation, she flees.</p><p>She never meant to go the first time, yet it changes her life, and she finds herself, and her world, bound to the magic of the museum...and the one who brought the magic in the first place.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> **_DISCLAIMER:_** I do **NOT** own _Night at the Museum_ , or any of its contents, characters, actors, ideas...or anything at all related to it. I never have, and I never will. This is written for fun. I’m dirt poor, so sorry. This is for my entertainment and for those who read this.
> 
> I also don't own anything remotely recognizable in the story; music, devices, brand names or anything; if you recognize it, I don't own it. I make nothing off of anything. None of my works provide me a profit. Basically, **_I own absolutely nothing._** Point blank.
> 
> I will admit it. I am a total sucker for Egyptian stuff...perhaps because I was hung up on _Yu-Gi-Oh!_ (which I don't own!) growing up, or maybe it's just the natural human fascination of the past—we must learn from it, so we want to better know it. Anyway, that said, of course I love the idea behind NatM—Egyptian magic and Gods bringing things to life? Heck yes.
> 
> Now, despite my fascination, I know very little about it, so should any incorrect information surface, I apologize, and mean no offense—honestly, if I had the money to do whatever I wanted, I'd take the classes and travel to learn these things, just for the love of learning...but I can barely afford living as it is, so...a little out of the question, in this case.
> 
> But, that said, this was something that popped in my head after I rewatched the first and second movies after seeing the third one in the theater. This takes place after the end of the second movie (with the night show in full swing!) but before the third...but will continue through the third film and, for those who've seen it, alter the ending somewhat...more than likely, as I tend to prefer happy endings.
> 
> I used to be active on other sites, but my time for writing has dwindled. For those that might not have seen my works on other sites (I'm under this name, or AngelKitsune), you need to know one thing: **I write in third person.** This means no "you," "your," or any variant, but I barely—if at all—describe "you" and leave space for the name of the reader. I beg that you don't let that interrupt you from reading and giving my style a chance, but I, of course, can't force anything. That said, I appreciate any who _do_ give me a chance, so thank you.
> 
> As a final note, this is the first time I've posted on this site, so if you notice any errors in my efforts, please let me know—I don't want this to look too screwy on your screens, so thanks in advance for any heads-up you can give.
> 
> I hope you enjoy.

**_Chapter One_**  
  
“I am so not a city girl,” she mumbled, rubbing her forehead gently. She was utterly, hopelessly lost–her friends and travel companions had stayed out drinking and partying and she'd had her fill early on; she'd gotten a cab and, whether by her shy nature or the cab driver's aggressive nature, she hadn't ended up in the right place. It was a hotel of the same name, but across the city, and she was beyond finding her way home. Feeling nervous and a little frightened, she'd made it down a few streets, until she saw the banners that made her feel a thousand times better. It was a museum, open late! Admission was minor–it meant she'd have something to do for the next several hours while she calmed down and tried to reason through how she'd gotten lost.  
  
She jogged up the stairs and paid her admission–it was worth it for the feeling of safety, and it was a good cause. She slipped inside, feeling instantly safer, only to notice...well...what on earth was going on? The dinosaur in the entryway was... _moving._ Moving! She had to be insane. Wide-eyed, she gazed around, not knowing what to do. Was that...President Teddy Roosevelt...on a horse...inside? An ostrich bobbed by and turned a corner she couldn't see.  
  
The museum was busy, busier than she thought it'd be, and the patrons were not nearly as bewildered as she felt. They were talking quietly, probably commenting on the exhibits, and striding peacefully through. “Can I help you, miss?”  
  
It was a thin man with brown hair and bright blue eyes, wearing a...uniform. He smiled at her, “I'm the night guard here,” he offered. “You look a little...startled,” he added.  
  
“I...uh...the...dinosaur moves?” It wasn't very coherent, but it was what she manged, at least.  
  
He grinned at her, “Yeah...I mean, it's mostly for the kids, you know, so they can learn,” he said.  
  
“Is it...animatronics? I mean, that's probably a stupid question...what else would it be?” She rubbed her head, seeming a little lost, but shook her head, “Sorry, I guess I just...didn't expect...this.”  
  
“You're not from New York, are you?”  
  
“Ah...no. I'm...yeah, no, I'm not. I'm not from the city, either...this is a little weird for me, I'll admit,” she murmured. “But my friends are out drinking and partying while they have the chance, so...I...well, I'm here, to make a long story short.”  
  
“Well, it's a good place to be,” he said, seeming to sense her nerves. “Is there anything you might want to see? As we say, history does come to life here,” he added, and she sensed more than the light playfulness he was trying to convey, like he knew some sort of secret.  
  
“Well...I mean, if nothing is off-limits, I might just...explore. I'm kinda...I gotta say, I'm sort of looking for a little quiet,” she admitted.  
  
“Hmm. Well, I think I know where you can find that,” he said after a moment, and he gestured for her to follow him.  
  
“Um...thank you, sir,” she said softly.  
  
“Part of my job,” he offered sincerely. “My name is Larry.”  
  
She smiled at him, “(Name),” she murmured softly. “Even if it is your job, though, I really do appreciate it. I know it's not always easy working with the public,” she admitted.  
  
They were walking at a steady pace, passing many of the exhibits as they went; she began to wonder how the museum afforded the numerous actors that must have been playing so many of these exhibits...and how did they do the makeup for the metallic ones? The ones of stone? Even if these people volunteered, how did they afford the makeup cost? Was it so profitable? The questions pulled some of her nervousness out and she began to feel a little calmer, despite her initial alarm. She didn't notice the guard glancing at her sideways, apparently puzzled, and at last, he spoke, “You'd never heard we had a...well, a night feature?”  
  
He startled her from her thoughts, but it wasn't unpleasant; she shook her head, “No...I mean, to tell you the truth, the only time I went to a museum was an art one...I was in elementary school. So I guess...I didn't really know what to expect, but then, museums are wax displays and stuffed tigers and...well, they're stationary historical figures, usually...so I guess the whole moving thing threw me for a loop,” she admitted.  
  
“That's alright. You just looked so startled, I was a bit worried,” he said; he really had been; she looked like she'd seen a ghost and had been so timid that a part of him had wondered if she might have been chased, or something of the like.  
  
“No, I mean...I was startled, and...I was nervous outside, I'm a little paranoid and don't really trust anyone, but...I'm okay,” she murmured. “Can I ask a question, though?”  
  
“Sure,” he said easily.  
  
“I know the beasts and such have to be some sort of animatronics...but...the human figures...actors? I mean...do you just have so many history-loving volunteers...? And the makeup and costumes are incredible,” she breathed. “And the real exhibits...I mean, we've passed displays and pedestals and they're all empty...does it all just get moved?”  
  
She was incredibly observant. He'd walked the halls, hearing people talk, and many suspected robotics and actors, but none he'd heard had paid attention to the fact that the exhibits were gone. They also didn't wonder at the makeup or costumes individually–others seemed to take those things in stride with the actors. He waited a few paces, wondering if he should lie to her, like so many others. Only a handful knew the truth. He hesitated, but spoke, at last, in a gentle tone, “Well...what do you suppose we do? I mean, not making fun, but really, I'm curious...what do you think?”  
  
They turned another corner as she thought, and she didn't notice the people inside; a woman of Native American descent, talking to the apparent Teddy Roosevelt, and a handsome man in glittering orange and gold robes, among a few others. “Well...not that it's my business, but it must cost a fortune in makeup or prosthetics, particularly for the ones that look like stone or metal...then, if the people are not volunteers, the museum would have to pay a fortune for the actors, even if the display is only a few hours a night...” She seemed lost in thought, but she was following him, still; his steps were slowing, and she adjusted for the change, too. “Then there's the studying–I assume they also need to know facts about the people they play....then, the funds for the animation of the non-human exhibits...” She was slipping deeper in thought, stopping, at last, though Larry was still walking. “You'd have to be careful and quick to put away all the original exhibits and prepare for the night show...I assume you'd have to shut down to safely transport the items, too.” She looked at him, now a little suspicious, somehow. “Frankly, I'm not sure how it would all come together...I mean, I can't imagine what you'd do, but I imagine even your busiest nights probably struggle to cover the funds needed for this.” She paused, shaking her head, “But it's really not any of my business. I'm just curious,” she added, and then chuckled. “Though if I didn't know better, I'd think it was magic.”  
  
“Lawrence!” The voice was booming and joyful at the same time, “You've found an intelligent one! Why, I don't suppose she's one of us, is she? No new exhibits?”  
  
“Hey, Teddy,” Larry greeted, a half-grin on his face. “No, just a visitor. She's an observant one, though,” he said, and his eyes traveled to the robed man, “I think she might be a bit smarter than our average visitor.”  
  
Puzzled, her head tilted, and she watched the man approach, holding a golden...something under one arm. He had a little smile on his face, and his eyes were wide–he looked a little like a curious child. “Hello,” he greeted, and his voice was gentle and soft; something about it soothed her nerves. He sounded...English, somehow, yet he looked...Egyptian? His garb seemed suited for hot deserts, and the tone of his skin suggested the same. “I am Ahkmenrah.”  
  
She found him to be much more handsome the closer he came–he had a beautiful, sweet smile and carried himself with confidence–and his eyes caught her up. She might have lost her breath, if she hadn't been so confused about what they were talking about. “I...uhm, I'm (Name),” she murmured at last.  
  
He smiled now, “No need for nervousness,” he soothed. “Are you quite alright? You seem a bit pale,” he questioned, genuinely concerned; she did look a shade pale, and definitely nervous.  
  
“Yes...I just, well, it's a long story,” she admitted, not really wanting Larry to have to hear the whole thing once more. “Just a bit startled, is all,” she said, trying not to sound too short about it.  
  
The woman from before approached now, striding up to Teddy in utter silence, and she smiled at (Name) gently, “It is us, is it not?”  
  
Now she was blushing mildly, “Well...yes,” she admitted. “I guess...I didn't expect it to begin with, and seeing the scale...I don't know, it seems like a lot of production and I'm not sure how the museum affords it,” she admitted.  
  
The man in robes–Ahkmenrah–smiled at her, “Well, you mentioned magic...do you believe in it?”  
  
She bit her lip softly, looking around. There was something...different about this place. Perhaps it was logic that said all they did was impossible...but logic also said it could be nothing else. She hesitated, “Well...it sounds cheesy, but I do...in a way. Not like...not like Santa delivering presents to all the children of the world in one night sort of magic, but in...well, ordinary magic,” she admitted. “The sort of magic that you get to see every day–a kind stranger, a little compliment...well, just the magic of humanity. I mean, for all of their creation humans have had war and murder and evil in them...we have the potential to be the worst creatures in this world, and yet somehow...there are those of us that are good, somewhere deep down,” she murmured. “I think it's magic that, though it's us that's made the world this way, we also manage to find things to be happy about. A little girl complimented me on my hair this morning while her mother dragged her down the street. That's the sort of magic I believe in,” she said at last.  
  
“Lawrence, I do believe I like this one!” It was Teddy's booming voice, sounding absolutely ecstatic at the very idea that someone might think that way. “Not just intelligent, but wise!”  
  
The blush returned now, and she shook her head, “Not really,” she said quickly. “I'm just...cheesy. I sort of make sure I don't get caught up in work and forget to live...I mean, what do we have if we don't have the small things? That's just what I think,” she mumbled.  
  
A sudden grunting sound came from the doorway, and they turned to see a...caveman? He was grunting and pointing wildly, and Larry gave a heavy sigh; (Name) seemed glad of the distraction, though she said nothing. Larry turned to Ahkmenrah, “Hey, Ahk, do you mind to stay with her? I mean, if she wants, anyway...it looks like they need something out there,” he said hurriedly. With a nod, the guard was gone, and the young woman was left looking at the handsome, robed man, just as befuddled as before.  
  
“Pharaoh, I think Sacagawea and I might take a stroll and check the exhibits. It looks like we may have left things a little too long. Is that alright?”  
  
“Of course, Teddy,” he said gently. “Perhaps check on the guardian first,” he suggested.  
  
“Larry is capable...but then...” the president shook his head suddenly, “Quite right, Pharaoh! We shall do that,” he said, and he climbed on to his horse, offering his hand to Sacagawea, “Shall we, my dear?”  
  
As the woman climbed up after the president, (Name) could only watch in awe as the horse cantered off, its riders speaking to the exhibits quietly, nodding to some, but seeming utterly at ease...on a horse...inside. It made little sense to the young woman and she stared for several moments, even after they were gone. “They...let a live horse inside...?” That could be the only case; they couldn't animate a robot to carry the two people and follow commands and...well, it would just be easier to have a live horse. But they allowed it?  
  
The man beside her chuckled quietly, and when she turned, he was smiling again, “Or it could be magic,” he suggested.  
  
“I...” She had her mouth open, but shut it, and shook her head. “...Right. I'll...try to...wrap my head around the idea,” she said at last.  
  
He smiled again, and it was a gentle expression–he seemed a kind person. “Well, as I do love stories myself, perhaps you'd like to tell me yours? You still seem a bit bewildered. Perhaps talking will help?”  
  
At his gentle urging, (Name) confessed the truth–she wasn't much for partying, but her friends were still out, and she'd tried to get back to her hotel alone. Her meek nature was the likely culprit in getting everything turned around, and she'd arrived here to more confusion, and Larry had offered to take her to a quieter portion of the museum...and, well, here she was. She smiled shyly at him, “A bit boring, but I'm not really...er...I'm boring myself, I suppose.”  
  
“Not at all,” he soothed. “Adventure is different for all of us, I think. Yours is simply getting a little lost,” he said, and he could hear the gentle teasing in it–he wasn't making fun, but he was making light of it, probably to try and ease her.  
  
“I suppose,” she murmured, blushing. He was...sweet. And polite. Perhaps he was an actor and just staying in character? She wasn't entirely sure, and realized, at the last moment, that she had no idea who he might be; she knew his name, but...well, she knew nothing else, and decided to take her mind off things, “I'm going to sound stupid, but...who are you? I mean, I know your name, but...”  
  
He grinned, and her heart _definitely_ skipped a beat–he had a beautiful grin. And he bit his lip when he did it! It was...adorable. “Well, I am an ancient Egyptian pharaoh from more than three-thousand years ago,” he said idly.  
  
She thought about that for several moments, her mind blurring through thoughts. A king? Well, what did that mean...? During the day, when there wasn't an actor playing him, was his display just some sort of sarcophagus and inside was a rotten mummy? _And how did they find someone who looked Egyptian to play him?_ “So...you're a king,” she started slowly, “And you just...wander the halls like a regular person?”  
  
He laughed again, and she found it incredibly pleasant. “Well, my display is a bit far. If I waited for someone to come see the Egyptian exhibit, I might be waiting for some time,” he said warmly. Of course, he didn't mention his jackal guards with life-threatening spears that only obeyed him, knowing they would probably kill anyone who dared approach their master without warning–no matter the option, it was far safer for him to leave his exhibit.  
  
“Mm,” she hummed, looking at him sideways, and she hesitated, but finally spoke, “I...I don't suppose you might just...walk with me? I'm not so good at the standing still thing,” she admitted.  
  
“Of course,” he said, and that smile was back. He was, without doubt, quite the attractive man.  
  
“Thank you,” she murmured, shy again, but at least it hadn't seemed to bother him yet.  
  
They strolled the halls, and he often pointed out exhibits and artifacts they passed, mentioning little facts and speaking in a few languages to the other actors. He seemed...vastly intelligent, and it was a little alarming–he looked quite young, not much over twenty. Perhaps her age, she thought, and she was beginning to wonder if, indeed, it might truly be magic. It would be such an elaborate operation, to get the actors ready, the displays moved... But both seemed equally impossible to her.  
  
They began to pass his exhibit, and she saw a flash of movement–he threw out his arm and pushed her back firmly, but she could tell he meant her no harm. He shouted in a thick language that she'd never heard and the movement came again, but slower–she saw a giant spear retreat in to the darkness of his exhibit, and her eyes grew wide when she saw the immense statues. She couldn't help but let out an involuntary squeak, “...You...uh...I...”  
  
He took her waist with one arm when she wobbled a little on her feet–the other still had the tablet, since he wasn't willing to let anyone get hold of it again after the night it was nearly stolen–and steadied her gently, putting her on a little bench. “I did not mean to frighten you,” he said softly; it was clear that she was in shock.  
  
“No...it's not...you, it's just...” She paused, and she looked at him, watching as he sat beside her carefully. “...Magic?”  
  
He smiled at her now, and he drew the tablet from under his arm, showing it to her, “I have heard many say that history comes to life in museums...in this museum, it does indeed,” he said gently. “This tablet awakens all the exhibits at sundown, and we must be in our proper places at sunrise, for we return to our original state at that time,” he explained.  
  
“So...so...Teddy...Theodore Roosevelt....is...wax?  
  
“Yes.”  
  
“And you...”  
  
“I am a decayed mummy during the day,” he admitted.  
  
“And...and your tablet...just...brings you to life? You're not wax, but...it just...makes you whole?”  
  
There was that smile again, that sweet smile that disarmed her even in shock, “Yes. This is what I was like when I was murdered,” he explained.  
  
“You were...?” She trailed off, looking confused, and he smiled at her quietly as it dawned on her, “I'm sorry.”  
  
“Well, it was my brother–in truth, I should have expected it,” he murmured, looking contemplative. “But, that was many long years ago. Now...well, now, this is my life,” he said, and he didn't seem unhappy with it.  
  
She stared at him for a little while, and an involuntary giggle escaped, “Well, just so you know...you look _excellent_ for a dead man.”  
  
He grinned at her, and he laughed, too, seeming surprised. She didn't seem the sort to just say something of the like–she seemed a bit shy for it. Though it was teasing, it was a compliment, too, in the end, “I thank you,” he said, that grin still on his face.  
  
She blushed, realizing that he could see that it wasn't just gentle teasing in her words, but she couldn't quite keep her next comment in, either, “Also, you might want to be careful. Any unsuspecting young woman could easily fall head-over-heels for that smile of yours, and I'm somehow thinking she couldn't get your phone number and might be quite indignant about that fact.”  
  
This time, the surprise was more evident, but his laughter came again, and he grinned at her once more–it was a genuinely joyful expression. “Well, not many young women of 'my age' tend to come in–usually children or older adults. But if one should ask, I'll have to come up with a smooth lie, I suppose,” he teased.  
  
As embarrassed as she was, (Name) couldn't quite resist his draw–despite what she now knew, the pharaoh was quite a likeable figure. He was charming and kind, and spoke to her gently–even though he was a king, he didn't seem to talk down to her at all. _And that smile!_ It was incredible. She smiled at him, trying to talk herself down from the ledge that she knew was there–he was a dead man all day and only alive at night; even if he was incredibly, painfully gorgeous, she _could not_ have a crush on a _mummy_ for God's sake! “Well, I can tell you she'd never believe you don't have a cell phone, since everyone has those these days, and telling her that you can get fired for breaking character on duty would probably not work, either,” she teased at last. “Mm. You could tell her you already have a girlfriend...or boyfriend, whatever your preference. Not sure it'd work, since I've got a friend who'd hit on anything that could potentially satisfy her wants until she annoyed it in to acquiescence...but maybe there won't be anyone too persistent,” she murmured.  
  
His eyebrow shot up, nearly high enough to push his crown up, “She...sounds...interesting,” he noted reluctantly, but continued after a moment, “But I'll take note of that,” he said at last. “Perhaps the idea that I am in a relationship will discourage them,” he murmured–it was a thought, at least.  
  
“I wouldn't make any bets,” she advised, a little smirk on her lips, “as you _are_ quite attractive. I have found that many who are not faithful don't expect anyone else to be,” she murmured. “So...not that they'd believe you, but your best bet might, in fact, be to tell them you are, quite literally, dead all day long.”  
  
He was further surprised by her blunt honesty about his looks–she still did seem quite shy, but perhaps she had broken from her shell, in this instance, because of her shock. He didn't truly mind, though–her honesty was flattering and she didn't seem to want anything from him. She was just...talking to him. A part of him could tell that she was, indeed, just talking to him–some might have mistaken it for flirting, and it might have been, unconsciously...but she was so nervous, he doubted she knew she was doing anything. “I'll make note of that,” he said gently. “Though I'm not sure the latter wouldn't be mistaken for something else,” he admitted.  
  
She chuckled at that, “I suppose you're right.” She looked at him for a moment, but after a few seconds, she smiled and shook her head gently, “You're very kind, Ahkmenrah,” she said softly. “I think you've managed to keep me calmer than I probably should be,” she admitted.  
  
“What makes you say that?”  
  
“Well, among my most paranoid fears, getting lost is one of the highest, particularly at night in an unfamiliar place I've never visited before...and if not for the museum, I'd be wandering the streets alone,” she said softly. “And then to find out that magic is real...well, imagine my surprise.” She paused, and he saw her cheeks redden a little, “That, and I'm a nervous person anyway, I have to admit. I can get nervous just being in public with my friends.”  
  
He smiled at her again, in that sweet, gentle way, “It's quite alright,” he soothed. “I can assure your safety here. We're a bit like family,” he said, that smile on his face brightening–he seemed proud of that fact.  
  
“Thank you,” she said again, sincerely.  
  
He nodded and stood, offering her a hand; she took it and drew her to her feet, and they kept walking, now. Her view changed–she realized the exhibits were...well, they were _real,_ if only at night. Not actors, not robots...but truly what they had been in life. Perhaps not as the pharaoh was, in the same body, but somehow, the knowledge and life they'd had before the museum was somehow transferred.  
  
This was... _incredible,_ she thought.  
  
**_End Chapter_**


	2. Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  ** _DISCLAIMER:_** I do **NOT** own _Night at the Museum_ , or any of its contents, characters, actors, ideas...or anything at all related to it. I never have, and I never will. This is written for fun. I’m dirt poor, so sorry. This is for my entertainment and for those who read this.
> 
> I also don't own anything remotely recognizable in the story; music, devices, brand names or anything; if you recognize it, I don't own it. I make nothing off of anything. None of my works provide me a profit. Basically, **_I own absolutely nothing._** Point blank.
> 
> _I do not own the song lyrics listed in this chapter, nor the band that wrote it, performed, or released it—it's merely a favorite song of mine._
> 
> Thanks to everyone for the kudos! I haven't earned a comment yet, but I'm hoping that's not a bad thing, and thanks to the one bookmark I got!
> 
> Enjoy!

**_ Chapter Two _ **

As they passed through the museum, she noticed that the crowd was thinning—the living museum must have been nearing its new “closing” time, she thought. She hesitated, but spoke slowly, “May I ask you a question?” Surprised, he looked at her, only to see that she was looking at the floor more than at him. “It's a bit personal, I imagine, so you don't have to answer, even if it's okay that I ask it,” she said.

He couldn't imagine what she might ask that would prompt this sort of behavior, but then again, she had seemed shy from the start, so he nodded, slowly, “Ask away,” he offered.

“Well...you said, the inhabitants come to life at night...and you said that you're a mummy during the day,” she said slowly. “So...when you...wake up, are you...are you stuck in your...?”

He paused, realizing why she thought it might be personal—he was dead, after all, and the fact that he was restored to life every night probably implied that...well, it implied a lot of grotesque images, not least of which was his rotten corpse, bound in cloth. It was an image he didn't personally like much, either. It was never pleasant, feeling his organs—which weren't really there—begin to fail when the sun started its rise. It was not very pleasant, either, for his first breath to be that of his wrappings—they smelled of death and decay and dust. And he had been trapped inside that sarcophagus for years...countless years, until he did have a claustrophobic fear, until the thought was enough to make him shiver. Larry always came to his exhibit and freed him long before the sun sank—the pharaoh could merely sit up, unwrap himself, and climb free, but each morning ticked his heart rate through the roof until death stopped even the smallest function of his body.

He hesitated for several moments as they walked, but she did not push him at all. “Yes...the guards you saw rewrap me in the morning and put me back in,” he admitted, after several moments. “So when night falls I must unwrap myself.”

She shivered, “You're...you're not locked in, are you?”

He immediately shook his head, “No...during the day, before he leaves, Larry locks the sarcophagus and replaces the stone lid, once the tablet's effects are gone; it must appear that nothing has changed.” He took a few steps, and she could sense the nervousness in him as he tried to calm down. “The moment he can, however, he comes and releases me, before the sun ever sinks,” he said gently. “I have only to sit up, undo my wrappings, and climb free.”

She looked more horrified than he felt—he thought she looked a little queasy. “You must be...you must have...you must be so strong,” she finally managed, and tapped her temple, “here.”

He smiled at her gently, trying to ease her, “Well...I cannot say that I don't wish I could do otherwise, I admit. If I did not have to climb back in to that sarcophagus at night, I would be elated...but we all must do what we must do.” He made a note not to mention to her that he had been sealed inside for ages—for years that seemed uncountable. But now, with Larry, he was assured that, each night, he would be set free before he even took his first breath, and that was a comfort that he counted among his most precious. “I am sure that there are worse things in this world than brief claustrophobia,” he said, though, in truth, he could think of very little at that moment—the few fears he felt had bubbled to his mind and, in truth, being locked in that sarcophagus was among the worst of them. It was true that, even thinking of it, as the memory of each night locked away floated to the top of his mind, his heart was beating too fast and his breathing wasn't quite as even.

It was not until he felt her hands, warm and soft, tugging at his, that he was drawn from that dark place. She was _human,_ and _living,_ and to feel the warmth of her—a warmth that even the awakened-wax did not have—reminded him that dawn was not approaching so rapidly. Befuddled, he didn't know what to do as he felt her draw his hands to her neck, pressing his fingers beneath her jaw, and the other hand was drawn just below her breast on to her ribs; his fingers curled gently around her side—feeling the strength of her heartbeat made him aware of his own racing, and he could feel her breathing beneath his hand, too. The reminder made him take a deep breath in, and he followed her pattern until the drumming of his heart was quieter and slower. She smiled at him then, and it soothed something in him that had not let go of the fear—her smile was sweet and genuine, if a little shy, and it reminded him, again, that this was a real person. “It's okay,” she soothed, and her voice, which had been a little high and her speech fast, had lowered. It was soothing and smooth, and the slower, calmer tone she used grounded him safely. “You're alright,” she said, and it was again soft and gentle. They both knew that he'd have to face it when dawn came...but her gesture was, perhaps, more comforting for the fact that she knew...and insisted that she help ease his fear.

Something in him, a deep place that he was not sure had existed before, shifted. It moved, only a little, as he watched her smile at him in that sweet way. But he had a strong mind, as she thought, and he knew that he could not act on the sudden feeling. He put it away, along with the many other things he had put aside, that he knew he could not have here and now—though he was lucky to be alive in this moment (if, indeed, it could be called life) he had more limits than those with limited time on earth. His “life” was unorthodox and, quite possibly...impossible. So, in this instance, this impossibility was one of many, and he reminded himself of the innumerable reasons as he put it aside with all the other emotions he could not act upon. Therefore, though he felt it deep inside himself, he merely drew one of her hands to himself, and pressed a single kiss to her palm—it was a small sign of affection, enough to show that he was comfortable with her and was fond of her, though their time was short, but it was also respect and thanks. The gesture was gentle and yet held many reasons behind it. He spoke quietly, his voice more mild and quiet than before—not the commanding confidence of a king, but the gentle peace of a man who knew kindness, and heart. “I thank you,” he breathed, and it was with a sweet smile. “You bear far more wisdom and kindness than I imagine your age should afford,” he complimented, genuinely.

A blush truly surfaced this time, flushing her cheeks a bright shade of red, and he saw her shyly smile, “Well...my mother taught me, when I was little. She always told me to breathe, if I was scared...she said, as long as I was breathing, I would be okay.” It was a quiet, gentle murmur. It was, perhaps, not the best thing to tell him, but it had soothed her.

He smiled at her again, “I will remember that,” he offered. It was true that, when his organs began to fail, it would be hard to remember; he could feel his lungs dying, could feel his breaths shorten and knew that his breathing would stop. ...Perhaps that was the comfort he could take; they would stop, and he would not have to face the darkness, and when they began to function again, he could calm himself.

She nodded at him with a little smile, but she shyly gestured down the hallway they were following. “Perhaps...take our mind off things?” It was timid, a mild suggestion, not a command, but an idea he could choose to agree on...or not.

There was that smile again, gentle and warm, and he nodded. Now he greeted some of the exhibits in their native languages, and she began to smile at him, impressed, “You are...incredibly intelligent,” she said at last. “You speak English as though you've known it all your life...and all these other languages! Is there anything you can't do?”

He laughed at her, surprised, and he turned to see her smiling at him, but it was not like before; there was something different about it. It almost edged on a smirk, he thought, “Well, my English came from Cambridge...I was on display in the Egyptology department,” he confessed, thinking. “And once you know a few, I think it is easier to pick up others...after all, as a prince, my parents thought it important to educate me fully, so I think that, perhaps, is part of my intelligence.”

“It's admirable,” she said softly. “I think I'm...well, we would all like to think we're smarter than we actually are,” she murmured, “But I would like to think I'm about average, at least.” She chuckled, “Though, speaking to you, I feel far less intelligent than I'd like to be,” she admitted.

He smiled at her, “I think you're quite intelligent,” he offered. “Perhaps not in the way most people consider intelligence...but I think you are wise. I think wisdom is as important as a good education.”

She chuckled at him, “Coming from someone who seems to carry both in equal strength, I'm not sure that comforts me,” she teased.

That cute grin formed again; he bit his lip as he grinned and it was incredibly...attractive. She had to admit that, at least. “Hmm,” he hummed quietly, “well, I should think that you would be more confident. You do come across as intelligent,” he offered.

She blushed again, and she shook her head, “Well, it's...I feel confident sometimes, but then I almost immediately feel conceited for thinking that way,” she admitted.

“You shouldn't,” he declared. “Confidence is an attractive quality,” he advised, looking at her with a smile. “If you are confident in yourself, others will be confident in you, too,” he offered.

She thought about that for a little while, but at last, she nodded, “I suppose...that makes sense,” she admitted. “I hadn't ever really thought about that before.”

“Well, as brief as my rule was, I had to be confident in it,” he explained smoothly. “My people took their strength from their leader. Perhaps this is a little different, but I think the idea remains,” he suggested.

She hesitated, but nodded after that, “You're right.” She turned to him, smiling a little shyly, “Thank you.”

“You need not thank me,” came the gentle reply, also with a smile.

She nearly replied, but music began playing suddenly, and she sighed, digging in her pocket. She pulled her phone out, looking at the name on the screen, and asked his pardon; she brought the device to her ear, “Hello?”

“(Name)!” Even Ahkmenrah could hear the voice clearly, despite the phone being to her ear—he watched her pull it at least a foot away, “You should totally come back and join us! There's boys here who'll make you forget your ex in a heartbeat!” There was the sound of muffled music in the background, inarticulate sounds and shouting. “You don't need to be such a sourpuss!”

Her face flushed red from her neck up, and from ear to ear, and in truth, Ahkmenrah was not sure if it was anger or embarrassment, because her expression changed. “I don't need a _boy_ , first of all—if anything, I'd prefer a man, but considering what happened with my **_EX_** I don't think I want to be near any intoxicated persons in the near future, _including **you**_.” Her voice had gone from timid and shy to angry and growled. “Back off and _enjoy_ your time out. I'm not going anywhere with _any_ of you again—I'll take my car and head home tomorrow.”

There came a great deal of angry yelling and cursing from the other end of the line, enough to make Ahkmenrah begin to blush at the array of insults being hurled at the young woman. He saw her hang up the phone, shaking, and shove it in to her pocket with much more force than he thought she probably should have used. But then, he saw her pacing around, her eyes wide and she was still trembling fiercely—it was a disturbing sight. “(Name)?” He used the softest voice he could, not wanting to frighten her when she seemed to have been drawn in to her own world—if she had seemed nervous before, she seemed terrified now.

She froze at the sound of her name, and she turned to him. She looked the picture of fright, and he took a step toward her, feeling his heart squeezed in a vice. Her arms wrapped around herself, and he realized, immediately, that he shouldn't approach—he stepped back again, carefully, not moving any closer at all. “(Name), what's wrong?” He kept the tone from before—soft and gentle, just above a breath, but the quiet halls allowed her to hear it.

Her eyes, wider than he thought a human's could be, darted all over him, looking like she was unable to focus at all. She seemed scared beyond reason, and he didn't know what to do; he couldn't approach...and he wouldn't leave her like this. It seemed, however, that she had some of her wits about her, for after a little while, she spoke, slowly, “Ahkmenrah...?”

“Yes, it's me,” he soothed.

“I...I...” Shaking, she sank to the floor, as wide-eyed as before, but now there were tears caught in her lashes and threatening to spill from the corners of her eyes. “I shouldn't...I'm sorry...I...”

He took a careful step forward now, but she didn't shirk away from him—instead, she just kept looking up at him, and it wrenched his heart in his chest; he felt the ache physically. She looked frightened and helpless. He approached her silently and knelt before her. He laid the tablet aside, knowing that this was more important, and he felt sure that most of the visitors had to be gone by now. He moved slowly, but she allowed him; his arms slowly wrapped around her, drawing her closer, and though she was shaking, she didn't push him away. The wisdom she complimented him on knew well enough that she had clearly been hurt by someone; she seemed more frightened of him than he had ever seen someone feel before, and he felt that it might have been the only thing keeping her from running that he was relatively unfamiliar. Her so-called “friends” had elicited this reaction, after all, and his foreignness might have kept her from bolting—her distrust hadn't allowed her to turn and run from him. He was thankful, in this instance, as he felt her trembling in his arms.

She was probably still frightened, but he began to feel her breathing level out, and her shivering began to subside, too. She seemed a gentle soul, despite her outburst of anger, and he could not fathom why on earth someone would do something to cause her such harm. She was timid and shy and he could not imagine that it was merely the result of whatever event she'd suffered. He hesitated for several moments, but at last, he began to stroke her back, hoping to soothe her, and while she stiffened, at first, she relaxed after a moment.

It took a little while, but she did, slowly, pull away from him, sniffling just a little bit—she didn't seem to have cried, but she might have been on the edge of it. She smiled quietly and laughed, though it was almost forced, “FYI...beads? Not so comfy,” she teased, though the little sniffle that followed definitely showed she wasn't quite alright yet.

Still, he knew better—he played along, smiling sheepishly, “I'll remember that,” he offered.

She nodded, but reached up, rubbing her cheeks carefully, and her smile was a little rueful, “I'm sorry...I must seem childish.”

“No...actually, if anything, I think your friends seem it more than you,” he assured. He reached up and took her hands gently, tugging them away from her face, “Are you alright? Truly?”

She blushed now, but didn't pull away from him; he'd kept her hands, but they were connected across their knees. “I...yes...I suppose,” she began, her voice quiet, “though I think that's because of you...so thank you,” she murmured, blushing even darker.

He seemed puzzled, yet he smiled at her, “I am glad to help, if I can.” It was not just a reply; it was an offer, not explicitly stated, yet he was sure that she would catch the hint, in the end.

The blush seemed almost permanent by this point; her face hadn't quite gone back to normal yet. She shook her head a little bit, “I...it's not really a big deal, it happened a couple months ago.” It was vague, and he could not imagine that she would be giving more information, based on her earlier reaction. “My friends just think...well, they're under the impression that I should be jumping in to a new relationship right away,” she murmured, sounding resentful. “They think a little drink and plenty of partying is enough to fix everything. I just...it's not what I need. I shouldn't have come in the first place, but I had a promise to keep, and I wanted to do that. I see it was a mistake, now,” she murmured.

“They don't sound like very good friends,” he murmured, though it wasn't as fierce as he would have like to make it—they didn't sound like friends at all, to him, let alone good ones.

“Well...I think...it's just, we're different people. I mean, I do consider them friends, it's just...there are distinct differences between us, and this is one,” she mumbled. “I'm more of an...introvert. I'd rather stay at home...I'm not really in to the 'party' scene. I don't even drink all that much...a glass of wine once in a while, but that's about it, in the end,” she said, but the words were so quiet he had to pay close attention to catch them all. He could hear some embarrassment in her tone, now. “If I had known this was their priority when coming here, I would never have agreed to tag along. I'd rather be at home with a good book and my music turned up,” she admitted.

He watched her now, and after a few moments, he stood; he leaned back down immediately and lifted her, earning a quiet squeak from shock—he looked strong, but not _that_ strong! Still, he put her gently on the nearest bench, and then took a seat at her side, “Well,” he murmured quietly, a little smile on his face, “why don't you tell me about your favorite books? Or music?” That, at least, would get her mind off whatever darkness might have lingered in her mind...or begin to, he thought.

She blushed, her eyes immediately averting—she wasn't used to attention. She was...well, she tended to avoid people, and therefore, didn't often find herself as the focus of anyone's attention. Yet the pharaoh had all his attention on her, without the slightest attempt to divert it onto himself. It was..strange. She hardly met anyone who didn't want to talk about themselves or their doings...yet he was lingering here, talking to her, about herself, about her life. It was...selfless and...sweet. She hesitated, “Well...I mean...” Her quiet embarrassment was audible in the shy way she spoke, not quite willing to meet his eyes. “I guess...my favorite music is...well, I mean, my favorite music has meaning or stories, I suppose,” she admitted at last. “I mean, I like some fun stuff, but I tend to listen to music from the heart.”

A little smile spread over his lips. Despite his advice about confidence, she was decidedly shy, and though he might have found it irritating on someone else, it was...cute, on her. She wasn't intentionally recoiling, but it seemed a reflex, almost. “Well, Larry has let us listen to music before...it's so different from what I heard in the past. Perhaps you could play some of yours, if you have a device?”

 _This blush is going to be permanent before the end of the night,_ she thought sourly, though there was a tinge of happiness in it; despite her shy nature, a part of her appreciated his attention. “Well, my taste is probably a lot different than Larry's,” she admitted, but pulled her phone from her pocket carefully. “I'm guessing he favors seventies-eighties music...I'm a little more modern,” she murmured, swiping at her phone screen; she typed in a code and clicked an icon on the screen. “I mean, I can get in to some classic rock and all, but I tend to favor the music my generation does,” she admitted, scrolling through the songs on the list.

He watched her in obvious fascination, seeming surprised by the technology...or, perhaps, her use of it. After all, Larry and Nick had brought technology in, and some of the exhibits had used some of it, though often, they couldn't use it well—Larry had said that, unfortunately, wax wouldn't activate a touch-screen, even if the wax was “living.” Ahkmenrah was an exception, as, after all, he was the one exhibit who was a living human; not wax. He and the other exhibits had been acquainted with some technology, just so they wouldn't seem out of time to the museum visitors, but the pharaoh hadn't had much chance to use a phone—it wasn't fair to the others.

Her scrolling stopped after a moment, and she tapped her finger on what he could only assume was a song. She cupped her hand around the bottom of the phone, where the speaker must have been, and he could hear music from it clearly; did her hand amplify the sound? He was accustomed to still hearing music on nights when Larry allowed the exhibits to...“party,” but this was decidedly different. That was played loudly in the lobby, but this was a tiny device that she somehow amplified with merely her hand. Still, someone had started singing, and it sounded like a man.

_Don't give yourself away, don't live your life that way; of course he's gonna say anything you want and leave quicker than he came, now you got yourself to blame, don't put yourself back in the fire again. It's the same damn things you're so quick to believe and do it over and over again, and it's the same mistakes that I'm watching you make; you do it over and over again. So before they bring you down, you've got to stand for something or you'll fall for anything._

It was definitely different than what Larry often played; the music he selected was often upbeat and the many exhibits had learned to play a number of games while they listened to the music. Nick played more modern things, but due to the late hours, it was rare that Nick made visits anymore, considering how his father wanted to make sure the young man was well-rested. This song was rather blue in comparison, yet he now understood what she'd said before; she preferred songs with stories or meaning. This, without doubt, had at least a little of both.

When it ended, she turned to him, a rueful little smile on her face, “I probably should've listened to that song a few more times.” It sounded a little bitter, but she shrugged, “But, that's one of my favorite bands...I listen to all their music. But I listen to a little of everything, I guess...if I can understand the lyrics, I'll about listen to it, basically. I can't get in to screamo or rap, I admit, but bits and pieces of other things...well, if it's meaningful or has a story, I'll probably enjoy it.”

He thought about that for a moment, but nodded, “Is that why you read? For the stories?”

She grinned at him, “Of course. I haven't been in school for a while, but I love to read. I mean, it's not really that I don't learn from whatever I read, because I do...but I prefer stories to formal education. I think I learned more from reading fiction than I ever did in a classroom,” she admitted.

“I admit I did find some of my lessons endlessly boring,” he confessed, a half-smile on his face, as though reflecting on those memories. “I suppose I can see where you're coming from,” he added.

She grinned and laughed suddenly, “A prince, bored at his lessons?” Her whole face had lit up at the idea, and he found it beautiful; until now, she had been nervous or bitter; he hadn't seen her truly laugh like this. It suited her. “I imagine you found all kinds of ways to get in to trouble,” she teased.

He was surprised by the change in her attitude and openness, but it was a good thing; it suited her far better than the almost-frown she'd sported for the better part of their conversations, “Oh, I admit my father might have wrung my neck a few times if I hadn't been his favorite...but I think I managed to get away with most of it.” There was some definite teasing in his tone, and she could see his pretty, white teeth as he smiled at her, “Though I wasn't such a bad child, as children go. My brother was the troublemaker.”

“Considering you said he murdered you...” She looked sour at the very idea of it.

“Well, I think, in some ways, his jealousy was somewhat fair; he was the eldest and should have had the throne, if not for his wickedness,” he explained. “Thankfully, Father realized the foul truth early enough to make sure that I would take the throne, though it seems that was rather fruitless, in the end,” he admitted.

She chuckled quietly, “Well, at least there was some effort put in...but, if that brother of yours ever comes here...might I suggest burning him alive? I mean, he murdered you, so I think I second death might not be too horrible on the scale, here. The tablet can't bring back ashes, can it?”

He stared at her, before he began to grin, surprised. It was humor...dark humor, granted, but humor all the same. It was humor like his own; he'd disturbed his fellow exhibits on more than one occasion with his strange humor, and it was surprising to find someone who outright said something of the like, “Well, it doesn't seem to be a problem...Larry threw him in to the Underworld.”

She definitely stared at him now, “...He did what?”

“As I understand, my brother tried to call forth the armies of the Underworld...well, after a battle I dare not try to describe, the door to the Underworld was reopened and Larry shoved him through,” he explained. “I cannot say I was entirely too upset by the news, I admit.”

The young woman blinked at him, before she finally began to chuckle, and she shook her head, “Well, that's a worry I'm glad to be free of. I daresay he'd try to kill you again.”

“Probably,” he admitted smoothly, “but I have many friends here. I think the Neanderthals might burn him alive, as you suggested,” he teased.

She was left smiling, unable to help it, “You're...amazing,” she said suddenly.

It was his turn to be confused, and he did stare at her for a moment, before he gathered his senses, “What did I do?”

The blush that she had hoped was gone for keeps rushed back; it seemed she hadn't quite meant to let that out. “You're very sweet,” she said slowly, “and incredibly kind. And you're _funny._ I mean, I know that's not all kidding, but you've made me laugh more than once,” she said in a rush. “I'm starting to wonder if you're actually real. I don't meet a lot of people like you,” she admitted.

He smiled at her again, and though it was genuine, she could see a twinkle in his eyes; he was also teasing when he spoke, “Thank you,” he began, a grin forming, “though technically, I might not be real—after all, I _am_ dead.”

The laughter that came from her was warm and rich, but she did feel a little pang somewhere in her chest, and reminded herself, again, that she could _not_ have a crush on a _mummy_. “Right. Correction to the usual statement; all the good guys are taken, gay, or both. Or dead.” It was definitely teasing, warm, “Though I can definitely say not all the fault lies with men—we women are a handful.”

He grinned at her, “Well, thus far, the women I've met seem to be less of a handful than you think,” he teased. “Though I can also say that most men aren't so bad, in the end...but that coming from me probably isn't a comfort,” he added.

She shrugged, looking a little uncomfortable, but she hid it well, “Well, my limited experience hasn't left a very good taste in my mouth about men, but then, I tend not to like people in general, so perhaps it's just me.” She seemed to think about that for a moment, a thoughtful frown forming, “Y'know...that could definitely be it,” she muttered.

He seemed a bit skeptical as he looked at her, but he didn't press her for information. He had gathered enough to realize that something must have happened with a man, and probably something awful, if her earlier panic attack was anything to judge by. It was nothing that he would force her to relive or explain; she had given a scarce few hints, but it was not truly his business, though a part of him definitely wondered what man could do something so awful to someone, anyone, let alone this woman. Instead, he chose to change the subject again; lingering on this was sure to get them in trouble, in the end.

**_ End Chapter _ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading! I hope everyone enjoyed the update.
> 
> Comments, questions, reviews...anything will be gladly accepted, including criticism, so long as it's constructive.
> 
> Thanks to any who take the time to leave kudos or a comment—it lets me know you want to see more, so thank you!
> 
> _Anyone curious about the song should know that it's "Fall for Anything," by The Script, an Irish band out of Dublin. They're my personal favorites, but the song choice was an important one. Again, I don't own it or anything related to it, but anyone curious should look it up—it's amazing!_


	3. Chapter Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  ** _DISCLAIMER:_** I do **NOT** own _Night at the Museum_ , or any of its contents, characters, actors, ideas...or anything at all related to it. I never have, and I never will. This is written for fun. I’m dirt poor, so sorry. This is for my entertainment and for those who read this.
> 
> I also don't own anything remotely recognizable in the story; music, devices, brand names or anything; if you recognize it, I don't own it. I make nothing off of anything. None of my works provide me a profit. Basically, **_I own absolutely nothing._** Point blank.
> 
> Thank you all for reading and all the kudos! I still haven't earned a comment, and I'm still hoping that's not a bad thing, but since I haven't gotten anything bad, either, I'll take it positively.
> 
> The story decidedly picks up a bit here, so please, enjoy, and thanks for the continued support!

**_ Chapter Three _ **

“Hey, Ahk?” The voice came from farther down the hall, and a bright light was coming toward them, bouncing a little. “You okay?”

The pharaoh looked up, puzzled, “Of course, Larry. Is everything alright?”

“It's almost sunrise,” Larry said slowly, lowering his flashlight as he approached. “And no offense, but I'm not sure I'm okay with picking up your dead body to put it in your case,” he added.

(Name) frowned and clicked a button on her phone; he was right. It was nearly morning and she hadn't even realized it. She stood slowly—they were on the same bench since they'd been on since her little panic attack—and turned to the pharaoh, offering her hands, “I didn't mean to keep you,” she apologized.

He stood, and though he took her hands, he did not use them to stand; he merely held them, squeezing once, “I enjoyed the company,” he soothed; she had no reason to apologize. Still, he nodded to Larry, “I am quite alright, Larry...I merely lost track of time. I'll head to my exhibit now,” he said.

Larry seemed immensely surprised, and she surmised that the young pharaoh probably never lost track of the passing of time. But the guard said nothing, and he nodded, “Well, as long as everything's okay,” he said, throwing in a small glance toward (Name).

When the pharaoh nodded, they all walked back toward his exhibit. Before his guards could begin wrapping him, she gently touched his shoulder, bowing to him, “Thank you, Ahk.” He'd given her permission to use the name sometime during the night; his name, as she had admitted at last, was a bit of a mouthful.

He smiled at her, and insisted that she didn't need to thank him, but offered that she should come back the next night, if she didn't make good on her threat to go home; he'd truly enjoyed their conversation. Her nod was brief, but he knew she took that to heart; she was a sweet woman, and she could do as she wished, but a part of him deeply wanted her to come back the next night.

When she departed, he turned to Larry abruptly, “I think you should see her home,” he said sternly; he didn't mean to make it a command, but his thoughts of her friends and his guesses about her discomfort with men made it a little more fierce than he intended.

Larry looked surprised, “I...uh, sure...but why?” Larry had yet to get over his stutter when he was surprised or bewildered, and it definitely came out here.

“She ended up here by mistake; she meant to go to the other side of the city to a hotel of the same name. Her friends are...well, I would not call them friends, and I fear that something may have happened to her recently to make her...uncomfortable.” It wasn't his place to say what he thought had happened, so he wouldn't, but it was as close as he could get.

Larry seemed to at least catch the gist of it. “...Okay, Ahk. Now, if you want me to go with her, you're gonna have to hurry,” he urged.

It was, perhaps, the calmest he'd ever been when he was being wrapped up and climbed back in, lying in the tiny space; he even had Larry lock him up right away, despite his insistence that he'd come back and do it later. Thankfully, however, the sun rose moments later, and Larry dashed downstairs; he only caught her because the doors were locked, and she couldn't get out. She was waiting, looking sheepish, and he smiled at her, “Locked you in, did I?”

“Sorry...I probably wasn't supposed to be here this late, was I?”

“It's okay. That's the first time I've seen Ahk so invested in a conversation,” he admitted. “You must have lots to talk about...he's always wanting to learn,” he explained.

“Well, we sort of...hopped subjects...a lot,” she said after a moment. “But he never seemed disinterested. I suppose he's curious about the modern world, isn't he?”

“Yeah, actually...sometimes, he seems so young, I gotta say. Like a kid at Christmas.”

She laughed, “I saw that, too. He's a good man,” she said.

“He is that,” Larry offered, but then, he sighed. “In fact, he asked me to take you home. He seems worried you might not get there...he said you came here by accident,” he said smoothly; he wouldn't let on what else the pharaoh had told him.

She blushed again, and she shook her head, “You don't need to do that.”

“I kinda do. I promised him I would,” he said sheepishly.

She seemed to realize that it wasn't just that, but a part of her was grateful, and she nodded, “Then...thank you.”

“Sure. But I gotta clock out and take care of a few things...do you mind to wait in the security office?”

“Not at all,” she said, shaking her head. “Anything I can do to help? All things considered, I think I owe you,” she offered.

“Nope. All good; it's just a walk-through, basically,” he said.

She nodded, and he walked her down to the security office; she waited patiently and left with him, seeming a little uncomfortable, but she didn't say anything, even in the close quarters of the taxi. This time, she was dropped off at the correct location, and he insisted on walking her to her own room; if Ahkmenrah had been so worried, he wasn't quite willing to let things sit this way.

Still, she disappeared inside her hotel room perfectly safe and sound. He turned away and knew that, that night, the first question would be asking if she was okay, and she seemed to be just fine.

What he didn't see was her pacing the floor, debating something, and then, a little while later, sneaking downstairs—amid the sounds of vomiting coming from the nearest rooms—and asking to transfer to the other hotel; she would still pay for her time here, but wanted to still enjoy her trip...and didn't want her friends to think she would go back on her word. She didn't want to stay with them, but she certainly didn't want her time off to go to waste; she'd meant this to be a vacation. With several phone calls and arrangements, the young woman, at last, went back to her room—she'd insisted that she have her own, knowing that she'd have to deal with the other friends and not wanting to face them after a night of partying—and packed all her things, turned in her key card, and carefully drove to the other hotel. She found her room with ease and settled in, curling up in the bed as soon as she could; staying up all night and the whole day before had left her exhausted.

She awoke to a phone call she did not want to get, and all her rest seemed pointless in the face of the news she'd gotten—she'd hoped endlessly that it would be anything else. But now she felt her world crashing down around her, and before she knew it, night was falling.

The only thing that drew her from her thoughts was an alarm she'd set on her phone, and staring at it, then around the room, she felt, suddenly, that she _had_ to get out. She had to leave, she had to run, she had to get away _somehow._

She barely remembered the few essentials she needed; she grabbed the key card, a wallet, her cell phone, and self-preservation grabbed pepper spray. She was out the door and sprinting away from the hotel before she could think which way to go; she knew running would get her nowhere, but it was all she could do.

Somehow, she found a familiar sight when her lungs were burning and her limbs were frozen; the spring air was somewhat chilly and night made it worse. Hesitation was brief, but soon, she climbed the steps. She couldn't say it was specifically to see him...but she could not deny that she wouldn't mind another meeting; it seemed a perfect escape on a night that felt like she wanted to run away from everything, though she knew she couldn't.

“(Name)!” It was his voice, his accent, the moment she was in the door; he rushed forward, and she heard all his jewelry jingling as he moved. He sounded a little like a giant jingle-bell, and the thought made her smile, at last. When he smiled at her, biting his lip, she realized it was a reflex; when he was shy...or proud. It wasn't a constant habit, but it was one she adored. “You've returned,” he said, and there was some wonder in his voice, laced with gratefulness.

“Something seems to be calling me here,” she said softly, a little smile on her face. “I didn't even mean to come, yet...here I am.”

That smile was on his face again, that sweet, adorable smile, and it warmed a place that she knew had grown cold and tired after the phone call she'd received, “Well, I am glad to have you here again,” he offered sincerely, eagerly.

She smiled at him, feeling more grateful for this meeting than anything in her life before; she felt better, so much better. “Thank you,” she breathed.

A little girl tugged on his robe, however, “Mister Ahkmenrah? Are you going to lead us tonight?”

Though he lingered, looking at (Name) for several seconds, he turned to the little girl, crouching to her level, “Would you like me to give you the tour?”

“Yes please!”

“Then I shall,” he said, and he was smiling gently, gesturing to the little group milling in the lobby; it was small, but it was enough for a tour. Still, he sent her a little, apologetic glance, but she waved her hand and shook her head, smiling; _It's okay,_ she seemed to say. _Go ahead._

While the young pharaoh led the group through the museum, (Name) explored on her own. She met many of the exhibits for herself this time, speaking to those she could understand, but in her wandering, she eventually grew tired. She was sure that those little children would keep the young king occupied for a while, and she, at last, decided she needed some air. The urge to flee from her problems had largely faded, and reality was setting in; she couldn't run. She would have, as far and as fast as she could, if she could have...but in this, there was no way, and no place. There was no escape. So, at last, she managed to find a way to the roof, hoping she wouldn't get in trouble, but she just wanted some air, and didn't want to leave; she wanted to see the pharaoh again, at least once.

Her vacation might be cut short, indeed.

With the desire not to be spotted and wanting to just breathe for a few minutes, the young woman braced herself against the edge of the roof, making sure she wasn't anywhere that she might be seen. But as she tilted her head skyward and tried not to think, of course, the very opposite happened—she thought only of her most recent phone call and the urge to run succumbed to the urge to cry. Tears streamed down her face, but, thankfully, she was a quiet crier, most of the time—she merely gasped and sniffled.

She didn't notice how cold she was until hands came down to her, tugging gently; even through blurred vision, she could see that it was the pharaoh. He was pulling her hands, which had wrapped around her bent knees, and she had no choice but to let him pull at her; his hands felt scorching, and it made her aware of her own frozen state. It wasn't excessively cold, but this spring night seemed to have clung to winter's chill; she felt it down to her bones, and it seemed she had been out there for longer than she meant. She let him pull her close, and she suddenly realized his golden robe was gone; he was forcing it over her arms, around her, and then he had her against his chest, and the tears burst forward again.

Crying was never pretty; it was messy, and snotty, and shaking. He had taken off his beaded...well, whatever it was, too, and she found herself pressed against his skin; his robe was around her, warm from his own body, and his hold on her was returning some of the warmth to her. But that wasn't why she didn't pull away; she was crying, she _had_ to cry, and his kindness seemed to have broken a dam in her mind.

But he held her. He wasn't disgusted, or offended; he kept his arms around her and held her until the crying, at last, subsided; she trembled in his arms, still, but now she reached up and rubbed her eyes, embarrassed. He was nearly a stranger, and yet... But he was kind, infinitely kind, and somehow, she was glad it was him. Still, though she'd started rubbing her eyes and had pulled back a little, he didn't quite let her go; he gave her space, but wasn't willing to let her get too far. He heard her speak, her voice a little broken, with a few sniffles included, “Just so you know...you're definitely more comfy than those beads,” she teased, a reminder from the night before, but he could hear the thanks in her voice.

He smiled at her, but it wasn't full, “(Name), you are going to freeze out here,” he said, stressing each word. “Will you come inside? Please?” When he saw her hesitate, he squeezed her gently; he hadn't let go of her. “Everyone has already left,” he soothed. “It's just the living exhibits now, and Larry.”

She hesitated a moment more, but at last, she nodded, “...Okay.”

He kept one arm around her, and stepped back inside; it seemed the ornamental beads had served to keep the door from locking them out. Once inside, he picked up the golden tablet he'd left at the top of the stairs, and gathered his makeshift door prop, too, but held both in one hand; the other kept around her. She had been cold to the touch and, though he was a bit cold from the time he'd spent outside, he knew he was warmer than she was, so, though she tried to give him his robe—which was far too big on her, considering his build—back, he insisted that she keep it for now.

It became apparent that Sacagawea was the culprit in letting him know where she'd gone; the Shoshone woman had sensed something amiss and had followed her in utter silence and had seen her slip through the door to the roof, and, when she hadn't returned shortly, had hunted and found the young pharaoh. (Name) couldn't be mad at the woman, and, instead, thanked her quietly, though she was definitely blushing.

Ahkmenrah knew that she didn't really want to be near anyone, however, and asked Sacagawea to make sure that no one would come snooping about; he was going to take her in to his exhibit and sit with her, even if that was all she wanted to do; she was clearly upset, and might want to talk, but she'd hardly spoken since she came through the doors that night. So, keeping hold of her, he guided her to his own exhibit, speaking a gentle, yet firm, command to his guards; this woman was not to be hurt, and should be allowed to pass no matter the circumstance. The jackals seemed a little bewildered, but at last, they knelt and brought their arms over their chests in a sign of obedience.

When, at last, they were inside the “tomb,” she finally convinced him to take his robe back, but she didn't leave him; she lingered, looking lost and awkward, and he took both her hands gently. “(Name)?”

She wouldn't quite look at him; her eyes were on her feet, and if she lifted her head, it was not toward him. At last, she mumbled a very miserable-sounding apology, though it was sincere; he could tell she meant it. He shook his head, “(Name), you have nothing to apologize for,” he stated firmly. “But I would like to know what's going on, if you are willing to tell me,” he continued, but it was anything but a command; his voice was utterly soft and it was merely a gentle question; there was absolutely no obligation in it. If she merely wanted to sit with him, he would gladly do it.

She hesitated, for a long time, but at last, she spoke, “I...well, considering you've been the kindest person to me in a long time...and considering your intelligence, I'd say you've already made some guesses...I...you deserve the truth,” she said at last. It had not truly escaped her, in the end, that part of his insistence about Larry taking her home must have been about her friends and the poorly-disguised self-resentment she'd shown through the previous night. He was too intelligent not to catch those hints she hadn't been able to keep in, even if he didn't know the whole truth, and she knew it wasn't nosiness; she had said those things, though she didn't mean to let on quite so much.

She hesitated, but decided to sit behind his empty sarcophagus; it was a small space and, somehow, it made her feel safer. When he sat beside her at last, he gave her some room, but he didn't sit too far; he wanted to be near if she needed him. “The truth is...my friends think I should date again because my ex...well, being generous—and forgive my language—is a manipulative, two-faced bastard who thinks more with his dick than the head he's got shoved so far up his ass he thinks he's God's gift to humankind.” She trailed off, and her face was red; he heard a few other curses under her breath, and it was more than enough to even tint his cheeks the slightest shade of pink; he hardly ever heard anyone swear, perhaps because of the environment he was in. “Anyway, they think they'll change my mind if I find a 'nice guy.' He was a 'nice guy,' to begin with. Flowers, dates, opening doors for me...but of course, it was all fake. He kept it up for a few months...enough to convince me, anyway,” she mumbled. “Then it started changing; a little at a time, so I didn't pay much heed...I was stupid, of course,” she said, her acrid tone making him wince; it was toward herself, though he was relieved to see it wasn't all on her; she did blame this guy, too.

“Long story short...I noticed the changes, a little, but the alarm bells didn't go off at first. When he started getting pushy about sex, though...I definitely noticed,” she admitted. “I told him no, I don't know how many times...I wasn't ready for that. I mean, it wasn't just because of his pushiness, either; it just...it started early on, and I told him it was too soon. Relationships based on sex don't last long...so I told him I wanted to wait. He seemed flustered, but he accepted...at first. Then, he'd push boundaries even with kisses, and...that should've sent me running for the hills...but like I said, I'm stupid.”

She wasn't looking at him; she was staring at the floor, curled up on herself. “So, one night, when I told him no, he got mad....but I thought he'd accepted it. He stormed off, but when he came back, he brought wine and a movie.” She shivered, curling up tighter, her arms around herself. “He drugged me...but I remember every moment. I cried the whole time...I think he liked that more than anything,” she spat. “I hurt all over...I had bruises for weeks. Thankfully, he's in jail...other women came forward about him,” she muttered. “I was just the first who said anything. Doctors found the evidence all over me and had the wine glass tested and took blood...they found the drugs. It was more than enough to put him away.” Despite what she said, she seemed as miserable as before.

Ahkmenrah was shaking. That was... _unacceptable. Loathsome._ “I should like to bury him alive with ten million scorpions,” he growled.

She seemed surprised, her head jerking up to stare at him, but then she smiled, “Well, I certainly wouldn't know who did it,” she said airily.

He was surprised, too, but then he smiled at her, glad that it had seemed to cheer her up, if only a little. Still, he could see that something else was weighing on her mind, and he reached out, gently placing his hand on her shoulder; it was an innocent place, though he knew that she did not respond negatively to his touch. Now he knew why she'd panicked so before; in her panic, she probably felt drugged again; aware of what was going on, but not in control, and he had been there. He couldn't blame her. But he wanted to be gentle, considering how upset she had seemed outside, and considering her tale; it couldn't be an easy thing to recall.

She jumped, but after a moment of hesitation, she slid closer to him, and he wrapped his arm around her shoulder when she was close enough to him. It gave her a comfort that surprised her; she had not been very trusting of most men lately, and she knew that not all men were like her ex...but that didn't mean she wasn't still afraid. But something in her heart said that this one, at least, was good. There was just...something about him. Something her ex had never had. She waited, but he didn't press her for information; he just held her in his side, and the warmth of his body was soothing: he'd left his beads off, still, though he'd put his robe back on. She finally spoke what had been on her mind all night; what had prompted her running, her crying, her panic, all of her awful feelings that night. “I...got a phone call today. That's why...I was crying. I mean, I'm still upset, and I don't trust many men, I'll admit...but for the most part, I've managed to let go of what happened. I'm resentful, but I keep telling myself that holding on will just make me bitter...but I've been trying to move past it.” It was a shy murmur, and her voice was shaking. “My doctor called to tell me I'm pregnant,” she finally admitted.

Every muscle in his body went stiff; she felt his body go rigid beside her, his arm tightening on her, but somehow, despite his physique, he did not harm her. “With all the modern advances in medicine and technology, they couldn't prevent that?” It wasn't the question he wanted to ask. He wanted to ask how anyone could force her to bear that bastard's child; anyone who would do that to a woman was a foul thing indeed. A monster, not a man. Ahkmenrah might have been thousands of years old, but in learning this new era, learning how things had changed—Larry was a great help in this, and had catered to his silly desires to learn as much as he could—his own opinions had changed, and whatever he might have thought in the past, he knew this was a foul thing to do. He could, and would, admit that some ancient practices were wrong—slavery was one of the first he'd changed his opinion about—and this was no different. If he could have, he probably would have brutally murdered her ex. That, too, he knew was wrong, but a piece of him wouldn't mind it; a man like that deserved it.

She was curling up again, and he could feel her shaking beneath his arm, “It didn't work. They tried...but they said there's always a chance it won't work...and it didn't,” she said, and he could hear her voice shaking, breaking, and when he pulled her close and wrapped his arms around her, she gasped and shook her head. He knew she was trying not to cry, but it burst free, anyway. He couldn't blame her; he wouldn't want to carry a child from a man like that, even if it would save all the world. He couldn't fathom how she must have felt, and he just held on to her, not knowing what to do; he wished he could help, but...what on earth could he do? He was a dead man during the day and couldn't go outside for long for fear of turning to dust.

Even when she stopped crying, she didn't pull away from him; this was the first comfort she'd found, perhaps because he was essentially a stranger. If someone she knew was so cruel, she could not say she expected anyone to be as kind as this man was. He might have been a dead man, but he was the sweetest she'd met. She was glad she hadn't worn makeup that day, for she knew he'd be covered in it, but she couldn't quite bring herself to pull from his arms; she wanted to be selfish, possibly for the last time she could for a long, long time.

She must have fallen asleep, because, once more, she was awoken by a bright light and a voice; this time, her eyes felt heavy and she couldn't quite understand the first few words, for they seemed muffled. When she realized what was going on, she sat up, and though it was slow, Ahkmenrah gently set her free of his arms.

Larry looked more puzzled than he, perhaps, ever had; Ahkmenrah could hardly stand still for five minutes, let alone for as long as he'd been gone, and he'd found (Name) asleep on his shoulder, tear tracks on her cheeks, curled up tightly in the young pharaoh's side, one arm clutching at him; the Egyptian could not have moved without waking her. He didn't quite know what to say as she began to wake up, slowly, looking blurry-eyed and unaware, blinking in the light, “(Name)? Did somebody hurt you? I mean, Dexter's a prankster, but...” He didn't want to imply anything severe, and he wasn't sure it wouldn't trigger her to say something else, so he had to do _something._ She must have cried fiercely for the evidence to still be on her face.

She shook her head quickly, “N-No. I...I'm fine. Just...uhm, just tired,” she said at last, looking guilty and embarrassed.

“Okay,” he said, knowing better than to press the matter, especially with the look Ahkmenrah sent him. But now the pharaoh stood up, and he helped the young woman to her feet gently, steadying her when she seemed dizzy, and then collected the tablet; though he'd let go of it, it was always somewhere close. When the king asked what time it was, Larry smiled, this time, “You've got a couple hours. I figured a little more warning might...well, I thought you might appreciate it,” he said.

He nodded, “Thank you, Larry,” he murmured, and turned to (Name), “(Name), I have some time...would you let me take you back to your hotel?”

She blushed, and she couldn't help shaking her head, “You shouldn't...I can walk, I moved to the one near here...I wanted away from them,” she admitted quietly. “Besides, you'll freeze. I've got warmer clothes on than you,” she insisted.

Now he scowled at her, “Your clothes are not warm enough for this; I was outside, too,” he pressed.

“Warmer than yours; you don't even have your stomach covered,” she muttered.

“Or you could both get something out of the lost and found and he can walk you home,” Larry threw in, before they could break in to a full-on debate.

(Name) blushed red, looking away, but Ahkmenrah smiled, “I can agree to that.” When the young woman mumbled a half-agreement, they made it down to the security office and found a coat that was a little too big for (Name), and, while she held the tablet, the pharaoh pulled on a jacket that replaced his robe and beaded mantle; he could put them back on as soon as he returned to the museum.

While she held the tablet, though, her fingers tingled; she could swear she felt shocks running up her arms, but said nothing; probably just her imagination, she thought, from her exhaustion—her emotions through the evening and night had utterly worn her out. She was surprised, however, when he removed his crown, to reveal a wealth of short, dark hair; for some reason, it made her smile. It suited him, beyond all doubt. Unfortunately, however, there were no pants he could wear; Larry's would be too small, considering Ahkmenrah's height and build, and, thankfully, it seemed that pants were not often lost in the museum.

At last, (Name) used her phone to get directions to her hotel, just so they wouldn't get lost; she could only hope that Ahkmenrah could remember how to get back, but she didn't remember it being too far, anyway.

The king zipped the tablet inside the jacket carefully, at (Name) and Larry's advice; it shouldn't be seen, as someone would definitely try to steal it if they were in the wrong part of the city, and the Egyptian couldn't be convinced to leave it behind, and Larry couldn't blame him—after all, Dexter had run away with it before.

When they finally set out, Ahkmenrah wrapped an arm around (Name), pulling her close, just for warmth; the wind was chilly and the fact that it was pitch black—aside from the city lights—meant it was even colder. “You didn't have to do this, you know,” she mumbled as they crossed the first street.

“I know,” he said, and his tone was soothing. “But I think you need rest, and I admit I do not like the thought of you being alone out here,” he added.

She sighed quietly, “You're sweet...but you're going to be alone on the way back,” she said, and he could hear the concern in her tone

“Well, if it comforts you, I was taught how to fight in my youth. A king must be able to defend himself, after all,” he explained.

“You can't fight someone with a gun,” she mumbled.

“Perhaps not...but I think I will be just fine,” he soothed.

She was quiet for a little while, looking at her phone, to make sure they were going the right way; at this hour, even in New York, the city was relatively empty; it seemed surprising to her. They turned a corner, finally, and she spoke, “...Thank you.”

“I don't mind to walk you home,” he said easily.

“No...I mean, yes, thank you for that, but...for...for...” She blushed, and was thankful that she had the excuse to look at her phone, though his arm around her was keeping her feeling safe and warm, “For...caring for me. I don't know many people who'd just sit and let some stranger cry on them the way you have,” she said at last. “And while holding me, on top of that,” she added.

He was a little surprised, but he squeezed her gently with the arm that was around her, “We're not truly strangers, are we? We've spoken quite a lot in two nights,” he reminded her.

“...Yes...I suppose you're right,” she said at last, a little smile forming. “But still...thank you. I think...I think that's the most comfort I've had since it happened,” she admitted.

He squeezed her again, but he never put enough pressure to cause her discomfort, “I'm happy to,” he said softly. “And I am sorry that he did that to you. I truly would bury him alive with a thousand scorpions, if I could,” he said, and though she knew it had a touch of teasing, she did not miss the anger in his tone, either. “I do not know if it will comfort you...but if at any time you would like to visit, I would be glad to see you,” he said softly.

She felt tears stinging her eyes again, but thankfully, she was so cold she managed to focus on that; she couldn't imagine how frozen he must be! “Thank you, Ahk,” she breathed, and they turned another corner; she could see the hotel on this block now. “You're...you're really sweet,” she said at last.

He smiled at that, but he followed her in, all the way to her hotel room, and she invited him in; she found a sheet of paper and wrote down directions, to make sure he could get back to the museum without any trouble. She slipped the jacket off, too, and gave it to him, “Just in case someone comes back for it,” she added.

He looked at her, and he could see how exhausted she was; she looked miserable and, though she'd cried so much already, he knew this wasn't easy for her. So, after a thought, he drew her in to a tight hug.

She gasped, not because of the hug, but because the tablet between them seemed to send a jolt through her whole body; she was sure her hair had stood on end, but he didn't seem to notice; he'd paused, pulled back, tugged it from beneath the jacket, and tried again. This time, thankfully, the jolt didn't happen, and she wondered again if it was merely her exhaustion, but she relished the hug; it felt wonderful, and he was warm. She hugged him back, but at last, they parted. She reached for the tablet again, to hand it to him; he'd laid it on the bed, and at the first touch, it shocked her again—she nearly dropped it. But she couldn't imagine what the problem was—was she allergic to gold?—so she gripped it firmly and offered it to him, feeling the strange jolts until, at last, he had taken it, and zipped it back in to the jacket, with his thanks.

She hesitated, but tugged at his hand gently, “Ahk?”

“Yes?”

At first, she thought to ask him about the strange feeling, but decided to dismiss it; it was surely her imagination, trying to distract her, but she knew what she _wanted_ to do. She stood on her toes and softly kissed his cheek, “Thank you...for everything. Truly.”

She was surprised to see a little blush on his cheeks, but he smiled and bit his lip in that adorable way, and he brought her hand to his mouth, pressing his lips to her knuckles. “You don't need to thank me,” he began gently, still smiling, “for I'm glad to help...and I will again, if ever you need anything,” he assured.

“Thank you,” she said softly, and he knew that it wasn't an obligatory thing; she truly meant it. So, he gave her another little hug—and another strange jolt from the tablet that felt like she'd been punched in the gut—and then, surprising her immensely, he softly kissed her cheek in return.

They finally parted with reluctant good-byes, and (Name) watched him until he was in the elevator and obscured from her sight; she looked up the phone number for the museum and made sure he arrived a few minutes later, and Larry, thankfully, assured her that the pharaoh was safe and sound inside.

She had to sleep after that, she knew, and she curled up in her bed, feeling far beyond exhaustion; she had so much to do tomorrow...well, for the foreseeable future, she would have a lot to do.

**_ End Chapter _ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone for reading! I hope you're all enjoying reading it as much as I have writing it.
> 
> As always, kudos are much appreciated, and I'll gladly (and thankfully!) accept comments or questions, and in the case of the latter, do my utmost best to answer.


	4. Chapter Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  ** _DISCLAIMER:_** I do **NOT** own _Night at the Museum_ , or any of its contents, characters, actors, ideas...or anything at all related to it. I never have, and I never will. This is written for fun. I’m dirt poor, so sorry. This is for my entertainment and for those who read this.
> 
> I also don't own anything remotely recognizable in the story; music, devices, brand names or anything; if you recognize it, I don't own it. I make nothing off of anything. None of my works provide me a profit. Basically, **_I own absolutely nothing._** Point blank.
> 
> I keep getting hits and kudos, and I appreciate you all! Thank you for all the support, I truly, truly appreciate it!
> 
> I would like to thank the two new bookmarks I received, and I finally earned a comment, so thank you so much for that, too!
> 
> I was a bit worried I'd turn everyone away with the little plot twist last chapter, but it seems people are still enjoying this, so that makes me excessively glad and excited! Thank you!
> 
> I realize I left the last chapter on the edge of a cliff, but this one should resolve the lingering questions for everyone, and I hope everyone enjoys it as much as the previous ones!
> 
> Enjoy!

**_ Chapter Four _ **

It was a few years later when, at last, (Name) returned to the museum. She was wrapped up warmly and, holding her hand, a tiny figure was also bundled up; fall was here, and she knew how cold it was. The night feature, thankfully, was still going on, and she didn't have to figure out how to sneak inside—she'd come for a visit, yes, but that was not the whole reason. She leaned down and lifted the little figure in to her arms carefully, keeping him on her hip as she walked in, and found that the museum was not too full, quite thankfully; the cold and the likelihood of classes the next day was sure to keep people from staying too late. She donated more than her admission to the museum, feeling that...well, the place deserved it.

She undid some of her warm wrappings, putting them in a backpack she wore, and did the same for her little one; as she did so, she heard a familiar voice, hesitant, “...(Name)...?”

“Hello Larry,” she greeted, smiling a little. “How are you?”

He didn't mean to be rude, but the question definitely went over his head, “Is that...yours?”

“Yes,” she murmured, and she finally put the rest of the items in the backpack, threw it back over her shoulders, and lifted what was now, clearly, a little boy. Of course, what had stunned the night guard the most was the little boy's appearance; he was nowhere nearly as pale as his mother, and had a head of thick, dark hair. He might have bet on the child being Ahkmenrah's, if he hadn't though that the two _couldn't_ have done such a thing...could they? “I...don't suppose Ahk is free...is he?”

The night guard stared for a moment, from the little boy, to the woman, back, and back again. “That's not....is it?”

“I...need to ask him that,” she said slowly. “He... _couldn't_ be, but...but...” Her own eyes had gone to her son; he looked so much like Ahkmenrah that, indeed, it had at last forced her to come back. She had thought he might grow out of it...or...or....something. This was impossible.

“Mama, is something wrong?” The child—who couldn't have been more than three or four—had perfect speech and pronunciation; he sounded more intelligent than Larry would have credited to the boy's size.

“No, sweetheart,” she soothed gently, “I'm just tired, baby.” She smiled at her son, and though she did look tired, the smile was genuine, “This is Larry. He's a friend,” she said softly.

“Hi Mister Larry!”

Larry approached, at last, “Hey buddy. What's your name?”

“My name's Evan!”

“Evan? That's a cool name,” he said, still a little shocked, but, thankfully, Larry knew how to handle children. “I bet your mom named you, didn't she?”

“Yeah!” The little boy's grin was as bright as Ahkmenrah's, and Larry was, once again, left absolutely befuddled; he even had the Egyptian's eyes.

Larry turned his attention to (Name) now, “I'll...go and find Ahk. Do you mind to go up to his exhibit? I think...I have a feeling it might be...better.”

She nodded, “I agree,” she murmured. “Thanks, Larry.”

As the night guard walked away, (Name) did allow her son to look at some of the exhibits, talking to them, though both Teddy and Sacagawea seemed as bewildered as Larry had been; they could see the resemblance, too, but they said nothing. She let him at least explore as they walked to Ahkmenrah's tomb, but it seemed they took a lot longer than the king himself; Larry was waiting outside, “I...didn't really know what to tell him, so I just asked him to wait inside...I hope that's okay,” he added, at last.

“That's fine,”she said softly. “I'm not really sure what to tell him, either,” she admitted.

He nodded, and he walked away, with a brief goodbye; he was sure to see them later, but for now, he had a feeling the two would be with the pharaoh for a while. He did see (Name) take Evan's hand gently, tugging him with her, but the little boy quivered when he saw the giant, dog-headed statues and their spears. He hid behind her leg, then, and followed her in that way; he hid behind both her legs when she stopped, at last, and just listened to his mother speak, “Ahk?”

He turned around suddenly, and she realized that, indeed, Larry had told him nothing; not even who was visiting, for when he saw her, he ran forward and lifted her off the floor in a hug; her feet cleared the floor by several inches, and the tablet was left lying on the edge of his sarcophagus, so joyous was he, “(Name)! Larry did not tell me you were here,” he said, and his voice was warm and bright.

She laughed in surprise and delight, and she hugged him back; how on earth could she resist such an urge? “Well, I don't think he knew what to say,” she began, surprised, but she smiled at him. “There's someone you need to meet,” she added, and her voice had gone somber. She realized that her son had ducked behind the nearest column when he'd seen the pharaoh running for his mother jubilantly, and she crouched down, “Come here, honey,” she said softly, waving to her son; he seemed like he'd been startled.

As the little boy finally came from behind the pillar, the Egyptian, like his friends, was left speechless. The child was his spitting image. As the little boy came closer, he even noticed the handful of tufts of curly hair that he himself had. If the little one had sprung straight from his forehead, Ahkmenrah wasn't sure he could have looked any more like himself. He turned to (Name), his eyes wide, “(Name)...is this your son?”

Somehow, he managed to keep enough of his wits to speak, but that seemed to be all; his body was frozen. “Yes...this is Evan,” she introduced, and lifting her son, she turned him toward the pharaoh. “Evan, this is Ahkmenrah. You can call him Ahk,” she said gently; even for his advanced intelligence for his age, the little boy would still find that name an absolute mouthful. But she saw, now, that as fascinated as the king was with the little boy, the little boy returned it; he was looking at the pharaoh with greater interest than any of the other exhibits, seeming puzzled.

“Mama, he looks a lot like me,” the little one said softly, looking as puzzled as the others had through the night. “He's too old to be my brother...is he my daddy? You told me I don't have one, Mama,” he pressed.

“Oh, baby, that's very complicated, and I can't explain it to you yet,” she said softly, squeezing the little figure in her arms gently. “But you have a mommy, and a grandmother, and lots of family,” she said, trying to persuade him not to press this; she had no idea what the truth was, but she knew that the man that had gotten her pregnant was _not_ the father. He was the only candidate, yet...yet this child looked nothing like him.

Ahkmenrah watched the little boy think about that, and finally, he gave a huffy sigh, “Okay Mama. But I want you to explain when you can! I want to know why I don't have a daddy. You can't throw a football straight,” he pouted.

She laughed, though she felt an ache in her heart, too. She knew it wasn't fair to her son not to have a father around, “Well, Mama promises to practice some more, okay? When it gets warmer, she'll throw all day long.”

The pharaoh, at last, seemed to find his voice, and though he spoke slowly, he did finally speak, “Evan, she can't explain yet, but it's good that your daddy isn't with you,” he said gently. “He was a bad man, and you shouldn't think of him as a father,” he explained, feeling like he needed to; (Name) shouldn't have to bear the burden of her son wishing for a father. It wasn't fair to Evan, true, but it wasn't fair to (Name), either.

(Name) looked gratefully at the pharaoh, “He's right. That man shouldn't be a daddy to anyone, baby. Am I not good enough for now?”

The little one seemed to think for a little while, but he did, indeed, have greater intelligence and perception than others of his age; he could tell his mother was upset. So, he nodded, and he wrapped his arms around her tightly, “Of course, Mama,” he said, and thankfully, he missed the tear that escaped one of her eyes; he was wrapped around her neck and didn't see her face. He felt her shuddering breath, but that, at least, escaped his understanding. Ahkmenrah reached out and wiped it away for her before the little boy finally let go, and (Name) squeezed her little one, and then one of the pharaoh's hands, thanking him.

“(Name)? Ahk?” The voice was a woman's, soft, and came from the entrance to the tomb. “May I come in?”

“Of course. Come in, Sacagawea,” the pharaoh called, and the woman appeared swiftly.

She turned to (Name), “(Name), I thought, perhaps, Evan might want to go see the miniatures,” she suggested, and she detected the underlying thought; she could speak to Ahkmenrah. “It's been such a long time since I've had time with a little one...might I take him, if he's alright with it?”

(Name) was more grateful than she ever imagined she could be, and turned to her son, “Hey, buddy...wanna go see some more of the museum?”

“Yeah!” he seemed quite excited, but looked at his mother, “Are you not going to take me, Mama?”

“Well, this lady is a friend of mine...she's a really good person, and I want to talk to Ahk. It's very important,” she said gently, but there was a little force behind it; her son would know that tone. “This is Sacagawea, remember? We saw her earlier. Will you be good to her and go explore?”

The little boy hesitated, but at last, he nodded. “I'll be good, Mama.”

“Good boy,” she said, and she put him gently on his feet, ruffling his dark hair. The little one walked to Sacagawea, and she offered her hand to the child; he took it, and she led him away, talking to him softly. She'd had a child of her own, after all. Of course, (Name) had thanked her silently before she left, and the woman offered only a nod.

Ahkmenrah's mind was utterly reeling; he felt like he'd been rolled down one of the pyramids and made to stand immediately afterward. “...That...bastard...that I would still like to murder...what does he look like?”

It was not fully coherent, but thankfully, (Name) understood. “Blonde hair, short, hazel eyes...and paler than me,” she muttered. “Your exact opposite, bluntly.”

He was still looking out of his exhibit, where the child and the Shoshone woman had already vanished, “So...”

“I'd put money on that kid not having an ounce of his DNA,” she admitted. “Evan can't be his.”

The pharaoh turned to her at last, “But...this is... _impossible,_ ” he finally managed.

“I'm aware...I was already pregnant, and we didn't...” She shook her head, and she slid down the column nearest her. “But you...he looks like you. I think the only thing he got from me is personality-wise,” she admitted. But she looked up at him, “I...what do you know about your tablet?”

He stopped then, but he sat down at her side, now, as befuddled as she was, “Well, I can assure you no such thing has happened before,” he began. “I know that it brings us to life at night...and I know that it can open the gate to the underworld...but I know nothing else.”

She hesitated, but she couldn't resist moving close to him; she still remembered the comfort he gave her. Indeed, it was part of what had helped her through being a single mother. “I...you handed me the tablet once, that night...I felt shocks coming off it,” she finally admitted, recalling the feeling of that night. “And when you had it zipped in that jacket...I felt a jolt through me, when you hugged me.” She told him the truth; every strange feeling she'd had when she somehow connected with the tablet, and the fact that she'd thought it, at first, a figment of her imagination. “But when I woke up the next day...I was in pain, so much that I couldn't stand. It passed quickly, but...” She hesitated, but finally, continued, “It was in my abdomen...but after that, I didn't have trouble. I mean, a few usual side-effects of pregnancy, but nothing like it should have been...I might have had the easiest pregnancy in history,” she blurted out. “And he's an _angel_. I mean, of course there are times I want to rip my hair out, but he's such a good kid...and he reminds me of you,” she said, speaking faster. “Not just his looks; the way he acts sometimes, too,” she added.

The pharaoh was puzzled, just as puzzled as (Name); perhaps even more. He knew the tablet was powerful, and indeed, it was magic...but could it truly have done this? But was there any other way...? The child was, without doubt, the right age to have been born after their first meeting; if she'd lost that child and gotten pregnant again, the little one would have been much younger, the pharaoh was sure. Indeed, he thought she probably would not have had one, if she had the option; she had seemed so upset by the news...and to trust anyone enough to have a child with them...it would take much longer. This had to be the child she'd found she was carrying when they first met. But Evan looked like...he looked like Ahkmenrah's own son; the slightest differences came only from (Name); his skin was paler than the king's, and the shape of his eyes was just a little different. But if he hadn't known better, he might have thought he'd gotten this woman pregnant. Still, he wasn't sure what to say, though he gently reached out his arm and wrapped it around the young woman once more; it seemed only the right thing to do, and he had missed her, in truth. “You know...I do not know if it could...I'm not sure anything could...but you know, if he's mine...” He trailed off, the thoughts running together; for the first time, he longed to be truly alive, not just at night. Indeed he had felt affection towards (Name) at their first meeting, but this was.... _different._

She shook her head, “Even if he is, I don't want anything from you. I mean...even if I did, there's nothing you could give,” she said quickly. “I was just...I couldn't...I couldn't _not_ ask. Evan is the sweetest little boy, and I love him so much...I feared I would hate him, for how he was created, but he's everything to me,” she breathed. “But seeing him every day...I swear, at times, I feel I have a tiny prince in my house. A part of me wanted to come just to make sure you were still here,” she admitted, though there was a little teasing in her voice. Still, she turned to him, and she shook her head, “I don't want anything from you. In fact...if he really is...if somehow, that tablet did this...you've given me far more than I could ask for.”

He looked at her now, and despite his shock, he took the time to take her in, now. He knew the little boy would be kept busy for a while, and in truth, he wanted this time with (Name); whatever had happened, even if they couldn't figure it out, needed...well, they needed to talk. He couldn't quite help feeling that the little boy was, indeed, his own; he looked just like him, and with her admittance as to what had happened with the tablet...he felt it must be true, especially since the wretch who'd initially gotten her pregnant looked nothing like her son. It was a strange feeling, and he was befuddled, not knowing what to do.

Instead, he acted on the here and now, hoping his mind would settle; he looked her over. She looked a little tired, but he suspected that was part of having a little boy. Otherwise, she looked...better, so much better than he remembered; she looked stronger, and had her shoulders back and her head held high. She looked confident and _happy_ and it was, quite possibly, the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen in all his years, and there were many to account for. The arm that wasn't around her rose, and he softly touched her cheek, “You look beautiful,” he said softly, suddenly.

She blushed, and he knew that she was still the same woman...but she bore more confidence, and it suited her. “You should take a glance in the mirror,” she teased, smiling, but she shook her head. “Thank you,” she added.

He smiled at her, that pretty smile she remembered, and she took his hand gently, feeling her heart flutter; she hadn't come for this, she truly hadn't, but sitting with him...well, she couldn't control her heart, could she? “You look happy,” he said gently, keeping her hand. “I hope those friends of yours aren't troubling you...and I do hope that bastard is still in jail,” he said, his voice angry on the last part.

“Well...my friends are gone, actually. I found another job...I had to be able to take care of Evan. I was very lucky...I found a better job that would help with Evan, and my mother and I moved. She takes care of him while I work,” she said softly. “I don't have many friends where I live, but the ones I do have are better than the ones I left,” she admitted, and then, she chuckled. “Oh, he's still locked up. It turns out he'd done a few more things than drugging young women to rape them...he'll be away for a long time,” she said, and he heard a wealth of satisfaction in her voice. “He won't be able to do this to any other woman ever again,” she finished, smugly.

He squeezed her hand at that, “Excellent,” he said, a smile on his face. But then, he looked at her, “Evan...doesn't have a father figure?” Of course, Ahkmenrah knew that the young woman would do her very best for her son, but he still had to ask the question.

“No...I mean, at first, I didn't have time to date, or the desire,” she said softly. “I've given a few a chance, but...they never quite...seemed right,” she admitted. “Most were nice, but...they just weren't...they didn't want anything to do with Evan, even when I was up front about having a son,” she explained. “I'm not sure that they were bad people, really, but if they didn't want Evan...well, I couldn't have that, could I?” With a shake of her head, she sighed, “His grandfather died a while ago...and his side of the family isn't too fond of me, to put it bluntly. But Mom's side loves that kid,” she said, a little grin forming. “If I let them, that boy would be spoiled.”

The pharaoh hesitated again, but he spoke, finally, “I wish I could...be there, for him,” he said, slowly.

She was surprised, but then, she squeezed the hand she was still holding, “I'd bet my life on you being a wonderful father, Ahk...but you don't have to think that way,” she said gently. “I probably shouldn't have come...I know this is crazy, but I...I had to ask. I'm so grateful, I really am...this child can't be from my ex, he can't be, and I couldn't be more grateful for that...but I can't...I just don't understand _how,_ ” she admitted, squeezing his hand tighter. “I didn't come to make this weigh on your mind. Truly, I didn't,” she insisted, now holding his one hand with both of hers, “But I had to ask...because...because I needed to know. I know you can't answer, but I feel...better.” She looked at him, squeezing his hand tightly, “So please don't take this on. Even if he is yours, by some miracle...believe me, I have more than I could ever want,” she insisted.

He couldn't help but let her hold on to him, feeling his heart ache. He knew she meant that; she hadn't meant to bring this to him, but now that he had seen that little boy, all he could think was that he wanted to be a part of the little one's life, somehow. Even if it was true that Ahkmenrah was the father in the most...unorthodox manner possible, the pharaoh would gladly take the child as his own and raise him, if he could; he would gladly spend his life with (Name) if he was granted the chance, and it was that very thought that made him pull her closer.

Her breath caught at the intense stare he gave her; she had, many times, tried to dissuade herself from the crush she knew she'd held on the pharaoh; the greatest deterrent should have been the fact that he was dead, quite literally...but it seemed her heart had a mind of its own, so to speak. She already knew that she would wind up with a broken heart...but a broken heart from love seemed a far better feeling than the way her heart had broken before; it'd broken from resentment and hatred and she'd felt cold and lonely and bitter. But then, who could know the future? She had certainly tried to prevent what she'd felt, but it seemed it had lingered; she realized it as she looked at him, feeling shy from the intensity of his gaze.

But he didn't let up; the confidence he'd suggested she keep, and had told her he had, was definitely present in his movements, but he was slow and gentle when he leaned in, glancing once at her lips, giving her time to push him away, but she couldn't bring herself to do so. His lips touched hers, soft, and brief, a test, to see if she'd let him continue, but she didn't try to escape; if anything, he felt her lean in and kiss him back. One of her hands lifted to his jaw and traced the dimple in his cheek as he kissed her again, his now-free hand lifting to tangle gently in her hair. It was only an innocent kiss, and he was incredibly gentle, but it left her lips tingling and when, at last, they parted, she bit her lower lip gently, not pulling away from him, but looking torn. “You shouldn't kiss me like that,” she breathed at last, her eyes darting to his lips a few times. The message definitely confused him, and that was compounded by the way she looked like she wanted to kiss him again.

“(Name)?” He couldn't quite find the way to voice the question, but he knew that he had definitely enjoyed that...and thought that she had, too. Was she...why did she not want him to kiss her? Her behavior and her speech were at odds.

“I...” That blush that had surfaced so often at their first meeting came again, flushing her cheeks all the way in to her ears, “You could definitely make a woman fall for you with kisses like that,” she said softly. But the smile she was giving him was sad, “And I'm not sure my heart can handle that sort of pain,” she added, a quiet admittance that was harder to speak than she thought it would be.

Though he was pleased that she liked his kiss, his heart ached again; it reminded him, fiercely, that it was true that this could not end in anything but heartbreak. A few years had passed and he couldn't see it on her face...but the child with her was a testament to the passage of time. He knew that, one day, she would grow old, yet he would be awakened each night at the same age; he could never die, not fully, unless the sun struck him. He knew it was reasonable for her to tell him this now, but he knew, in his heart, that he was already fond of this woman. He found her to be incredible even at their first meeting; she was smart, and kind, and wise beyond her years. They had spoken for hours and he had not once found himself daydreaming of anything else; he'd been invested in every word she said, everything she showed him on her phone, in _her_. And his heart had felt like it shattered when he found her crying, when she'd sobbed on him the way she did, more than once; it felt like a vice was gripping his chest, a physical pain that could have torn him in two, he was sure. Indeed, her tale had made him angry, angry as he had not felt in many years...and then to hear that she was carrying that monster's child...he resented that man far more than even his brother. There was almost reason behind his brother's behavior...but to do that...it made Ahkmenrah angry, so angry. Indeed, he had wished more than anything that, even if he could not change what had happened to her, that she did not have to bear that man's spawn; it would be a disgrace to this woman.

Somehow, that seemed to have worked; somehow, the tablet had done something, and she had borne a child that could have easily been Ahkmenrah's; he would bet his crown on Evan being his own, the more he thought about it. Had the tablet granted his wish? Had, somehow, the magic of the tablet done this?

And now, to see her again...to see her strong and confident, a capable mother with a well-behaved son...she was truly a wonder, and he admired her. He wished, longingly, that he could know her, truly know her...that he could spend his life with her. But he was eternally dead, and eternally awakened at the age of his death; he wasn't alive, not truly, and had not been for thousands of years. But she would grow old, and gray, and withered; he would watch her die before his eyes, year by year, and see his son grow older than him, too.

The life he appreciated each night now seemed a curse with these thoughts, with the knowledge that he had none of his family; his father had known the secrets of the tablet. His father knew what it could do. His father _knew_ and Ahkmenrah did not know how he might ever ask him the truth...or even to beg him to make this one wish true.

Once again, he was drawn out of the pit of his dark thoughts by her touch; her hands on his, rubbing up his arms, warm and soothing and then her arms were around his neck, hugging him so tightly it might have hurt, if he hadn't been so strong himself. “I'm sorry, Ahk,” she said, and he heard the tremor and breaking in her voice. “I'm so sorry, I shouldn't have come...I didn't think, and I...” His heart twisted in his chest again; he felt it, a physical pain that put all his previous aches to shame. She was crying, but it was not as the last time; it was not all for herself, but for him, and that ached even worse. “I'm so sorry,” she murmured again, shaking.

He had to hold her, to keep her close, and his arms crushed her to him, keeping her in his chest, his head tilted in to hers, not willing to let her go.

When, at last, she calmed down a little, he whispered in to her ear, keeping his grip on her, “I am glad to have met him, and to see you again, (Name). Please do not regret bringing him,” he murmured softly, keeping his voice gentle, and it was all true. It did cause him some pain...but he was glad of seeing her, to see that she was okay, and to see that she did not have to bear the spawn of that monster. It was enough, at least for now, to ease some of the pain of the longing that had so suddenly built in his heart. “I would like to see him again, if I could...would you bring him again tomorrow?”

Breathing shakily, the young woman nodded, tears in the corners of her eyes, “Of course,” she said at last.

He couldn't resist leaning forward, kissing the corners of her eyes softly; he was not sure how much his heart could take of her pain. It was worse than his murder, far worse, and he would rather see Kamunrah again than to see her in pain.

“Mama?” The voice was small, and tired, “Mama, are you still in here?”

The change on her face was instant; she had to be strong for her baby. She wiped her eyes, took a deep breath, and stood, making sure she looked normal again, at least to her little boy; older, wiser figures might see through it, but she could at least protect her son and make sure that she was strong for him. Ahkmenrah could not help but admire her as she stepped from behind the pillar, and he followed her, just in time to see Evan toddling toward her, rubbing his eyes fiercely. “Mama, I'm tired...can we go?”

Sacagawea was only steps behind; she had kept the little one busy as long as she could, but he, of course, was sure to be tired early on; she was surprised he was awake this long, in fact. Both she and Ahkmenrah watched (Name) scoop the little boy up in one swift movement, holding him on her hip, “Of course, baby,” she soothed. “I should have taken you home earlier.”

“Nuh-uh,” the little one insisted, still rubbing his eyes, “I wouldn't have let you. I was having fun with the monkey!”

She smiled at him, and she lifted her head, kissing his forehead. “Well, baby, wanna come back tomorrow?” She kept her arm around him safely, but reached up and ruffled his hair with the other. “Were you a good boy?”

“He's wonderful,” Sacagawea said quickly, approaching the two with a smile. “You've raised him well, (Name). He's a perfect little angel,” she complimented.

“Well, thank you, though that's my mother, too,” she said, smiling. “I'm very lucky,” she added, squeezing Evan gently. “He's my little miracle.”

The little boy leaned in to her shoulder and neck, heaving a sigh, “Mama? Will you carry me back to the hotel?”

“Sure, baby,” she murmured, turning to kiss the top of his head gently. “I'll carry you, as long as you promise to put on your hat, gloves, and scarf before we leave. Deal?”

He nodded, “Deal.” She felt her little one nuzzle in to her shoulder, apparently exhausted, and (Name) chuckled, wrapping both arms around him.

Both Ahkmenrah and Sacagawea followed (Name) back to the entrance, and (Name) didn't notice Ahkmenrah taking off the beads from his neck; when they stopped, he offered his arms for the little boy, nodding to her backpack; she would have a hard time taking it off with her son in her arms. So, carefully, she handed the little one—who, indeed, seemed to have already fallen asleep—to the pharaoh gently, and without the beads on, Evan merely curled up, letting out a half-sigh in his sleep, and snuggled in to the Egyptian's chest.

Thankfully, the museum was officially closed, so (Name) managed to put her own warm things on quickly, and then, wrestling with a cranky, half-asleep little boy, she bundled him up, too, thanking Ahkmenrah for holding him, though she noted the king seemed a little reluctant to let him go. At last, however, both were wrapped up warmly, and (Name) took Evan back in to her arms, and though he grumbled a little, he almost instantly fell asleep again in his mother's arms. She waited a moment, but turned to Sacagawea, “Thank you so much for taking him tonight,” she said softly.

“I...thought you might need to see him,” the woman replied softly, looking at Evan, “considering how much he looks like the pharaoh,” she added.

“Well, I'm not sure how that happened,” she admitted quietly, but her eyes drifted to Ahkmenrah; he had the tablet with him, but at the moment, it was sitting on the desk; he'd put it, and his beads, away so that he could take Evan. “Though the only way it could have happened...it had to be the tablet,” she said softly, and she saw the pharaoh nod, still seeming somewhat upset by the idea that he couldn't help, that, indeed, he didn't know the whole truth, but they seemed to have no option but to make the guess. Still, with her son in her arms, she gave a quiet sigh, “But I'm thankful, more thankful than you can imagine...the man who...I mean, that _monster_...I admit I don't know if I could have kept him...I don't know that I could have lived with it,” she said, vaguely, in case her son woke up and heard what she said. “And somehow I wound up with...with this perfect child...I never imagined...and I love him so much,” she said softly.

Sacagawea smiled, a wide, pretty smile, “That's the best thing you can do,” she said softly. “Even if you don't understand, to love him is the best thing you can do,” she advised.

“I know...and I do,” she murmured, a little smile on her face, holding her son close. “More than anything,” she added.

The pharaoh watched as Evan turned restlessly in his mothers arms, sighing again, “We should get you home,” he said softly, and he turned to Larry; the guard had been waiting at the entrance the whole time, and Teddy, too. “How much time do we have?”

“You can take her, if you'd like,” Larry said, checking his watch. “But...maybe get you a jacket again,” he said, heading toward the security office.

(Name) dug in her pocket and saw that, indeed, they had plenty of time; her little one had tuckered out early, as he should have. “You don't have to walk me,” she said softly, but she was smiling.

“Yes...but you know I want to,” he replied; she had known that was coming, and waited as Larry returned, helping Ahkmenrah in to the jacket that was a little too small; he hadn't found anything bigger, but it would do, for now. Surprisingly, the pharaoh gave the tablet to Larry, “Will you keep it, until I return? I know you will take care of it,” he said simply.

Larry was immensely surprised, but he nodded, “Sure, Ahk.”

At that, the pharaoh turned, and he reached out to (Name), “Let me carry him,” he said softly, smiling. “You've held him so long...let me give you a break,” he offered.

She knew exactly what the pharaoh meant, and she knew why he wanted to hold the little one; even if there was no proof—indeed, she wasn't sure there could be any scientifically—the pharaoh had already decided in his heart that this little one was his own. So, slowly, making sure not to wake Evan, she handed over her son, and at last, Larry let them outside, with a brief goodbye and a reminder to the Egyptian not to stay out for too long; he had a while...but he didn't want the pharaoh to lose track of time, either.

With his tiny bundle wrapped in strong arms, he didn't have a way to hold on to (Name), but he walked close enough that the young woman slid one hand in the crook of his elbow, holding to him; it was enough to satisfy him. This time, she didn't seem to need her phone, but, instead, guided him with a little squeeze of her hand or a gentle tug, glancing at her son, but the little boy was sound asleep and hardly stirred. They didn't speak, but were both content with the walk, and (Name) saw that Ahkmenrah held Evan gently, yet she knew the pharaoh's strength; he was looking after the little one as much as easing his mother's tired arms.

**_ End Chapter _ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for reading this; I hope you guys are loving it!
> 
> As always, any comments are gladly, and thankfully, accepted, and I shall do my best to answer any questions you might have.
> 
> Thank you again for reading!


	5. Chapter Five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  ** _DISCLAIMER:_** I do **NOT** own _Night at the Museum_ , or any of its contents, characters, actors, ideas...or anything at all related to it. I never have, and I never will. This is written for fun. I’m dirt poor, so sorry. This is for my entertainment and for those who read this.
> 
> I also don't own anything remotely recognizable in the story; music, devices, brand names or anything; if you recognize it, I don't own it. I make nothing off of anything. None of my works provide me a profit. Basically, **_I own absolutely nothing._** Point blank.
> 
> Thank you all for your support; your comments and kudos are so encouraging and I'm glad to know you're enjoying this! Thank you so much.
> 
> I hope you all enjoy this new chapter, and continue to show your enjoyment—it lets me know that you want more, which encourages me to keep posting.
> 
> _I finally received my own copy of the third film in the mail, and, as such, have resumed writing; I now have a full nine chapters done, and am working on number ten, and am about...a third of the way through the film. This means, given that I have time around work, I should be able to finish this fic within the next couple weeks, and, quite hopefully, before I catch up posting to what I've already written! I don't want to keep you guys waiting for chapters for long periods, if I can help it._
> 
> Enjoy!

**_ Chapter Five _ **

In her hotel room, the Egyptian gently placed the little boy on the bed; (Name) turned down the covers and pulled them up to his chin once Ahkmenrah had put him down. She had little in the way of keeping quiet, but she shook her head, “He sleeps like a rock once he's this out,” she said softly. “I don't encourage shouting, but it'll take a little more than speech to wake him,” she added.

The little table the hotel had provided in the corner had two chairs, and (Name) sat down with a piece of paper again, writing directions for the pharaoh, but she was surprised when he settled in the chair across from her, turned slightly enough to see Evan sleeping. She smiled slowly, “I...I know the Egyptians have a myriad of gods and goddesses,” she began, catching his attention, “but, if I remember correctly, the pharaohs were considered gods themselves...or, a god on earth, between his people and the gods.”

The pharaoh seemed surprised, but then he smiled, “Indeed. Though, I think, in this case, I am merely a king,” he admitted; he had no people, no one to rule, and the gods, after all, would merely be speaking to him, and him to them; there wasn't a third party, so...well, that role seemed....unimportant right now.

She sat back in her chair, “The moment I saw him, I knew he wasn't...” She trailed off, looking at her son, and then, at last, returned her attention to the pharaoh, “Even when I was pregnant, I had a feeling. Evan isn't _his_.” She sighed, but she glanced again at the little one; he was still out, and hadn't stirred a bit. Her eyes found Ahkmenrah once more, “Evan means 'God is gracious,'” she said slowly. “Now, whatever beliefs there are in this world, I don't know what to make of them all...but if, indeed, a pharaoh is a god on earth, I daresay his name suits him well,” she finished.

Ahkmenrah looked at her now, surprised, and then he couldn't resist; his hand took hers, keeping hold a little too tightly, though he didn't mean to hurt her. “(Name)...” The pharaoh could not fathom what to say, could not begin to find words to attach to his thoughts, and all he could do, at that moment, was hold on to her hand; it seemed so small in comparison to what he wanted to do, but it was what he had.

But she was smiling at him, not minding his tight grip; she squeezed his hand gently, in what little movement she had. “Ahk, I'm not sure what happened...I'm not sure _how_ , but I know that that little boy is a miracle,” she murmured, her voice soft. “And I know...I can see it in your eyes, you think of him as yours, and...he might be. I can't fathom how, but I know he's not the least bit like that monster,” she said softly. “And I can ask nothing of you, not rightfully, because this...this has to have been you and your tablet, considering the shortage of magical objects in the world,” she teased, smiling, but she kept her grip on his hand, meeting his eyes; she wanted him to listen to her. “I thank you, truly, for this. Evan is my little miracle, and I fear if I loved him more, my heart would burst, so it isn't fair to ask anything of you, but...” Her grip tightened on him, her gaze a little more fierce now, “Please don't...don't let this weigh on you,” she insisted. “Don't let it burden you. I'm blessed, more than that, and I know that there are things that Evan will want...and I know that it's not fair for him not to have a father, but I would by far rather raise him with my mother's help and know that I've done right, and that...”

Now she took a deep breath, and he felt her hand tremble in his, “I would rather know that his father is such an amazing man, and raise my son well, than to risk him having a horrible example in his life,” she said at last; it was a heavy thing, for her to admit that, indeed, Ahkmenrah was, probably, somehow...some way, Evan's father. It was a thought, for a long time, and she had been unable to forget it, but to voice it seemed a step that she hadn't prepared to take. But she was still holding on to the king tightly. “So, whatever you might think of Evan...please don't let those thoughts upset you,” she said at last, smiling, though he saw a brief shine of tears in her eyes, but she seemed stronger now.

He didn't speak, at first, but after a moment, he manged to smile, at last, “I do...think of him as mine,” he admitted. “I don't understand, either, how the tablet might have...but I cannot imagine...how he could _not_ be mine,” he said slowly. The child was such a look-alike that Ahkmenrah felt, in the right garb, he might have passed for himself...in tiny form, of course. The little one would, doubtless, have caused his mother quite a shock, if a meeting should ever happen; she might think her own son had aged in reverse! Still, after he realized he was looking at Evan, he turned his attention to (Name), the smile seeming a little more real. “I do understand everything that you have said...but I cannot help wishing I could be a part of his life,” he admitted. “But I promise that I will try not to wish too longingly,” he said at last, and she knew what he meant; he would not wish his heart away...or, he would try not to do so, at least.

She hesitated, but she brought his hand to her mouth, kissing the back of it; he still had a grip on her, and she on him, “I will bring him tomorrow night...but...” She hesitated again, not liking the thought that plagued her, “As he grows...do you want me to bring him? I think...I think, in this case, it should be up to you,” she murmured. “I imagine watching him grow would be important to you, but then...” The implication was there; Ahkmenrah would have to watch his son grow to be nearly his age, and, if Evan kept visiting, perhaps even watch him gray. It was a foul thought, (Name) admitted; to watch someone age and die before his eyes, while he remained.

Ahkmenrah thought about that, truly though about it, for several long moments, but as he turned to Evan, he sighed, “I know my heart will break, one day...but I want to see him, at least for now,” he said, at last.

She nodded, a sad smile on her face, and she squeezed his hand, tugging his arm; she wanted his attention back on her. She hesitated, but spoke, after a few moments, “When you were....well, before your murder...were you married? Did you have children?”

He chuckled and shook his head, “Neither. Though I took the throne young, it was not at the death of my father; it was on his wish.” He paused, his mind going back to those times, and he shook his head once more. “Though I was his favorite, I was...well, he did not fully trust me; he would not tell me the secrets of my tablet, and I think he feared, if I married and had my own family, he would have to admit my competence,” he said slowly. “Though, now that I see Evan, I wonder if he did not hold me back for fear of losing me,” he admitted.

She let out a surprising giggle that tickled him; it felt good to hear her laugh, after all the seriousness the night had brought, “Oh, you've got a ways to go, there. He's not even to the 'girls are icky!' stage yet; he doesn't pay much heed, as long as he can play with someone,” she teased. “Though I'm going to make a bet here and now that he's going to have entirely too many young women after his affection for my taste,” she added, knowing how handsome his father was; if Evan looked anything like Ahkmenrah when he grew, she was doomed to giving her son “the talk” early on, and repeatedly.

The king couldn't help but laugh, too, but he had his eyes on the bed again; Evan had rolled on to his side and had the blankets half-off, but he was as asleep as ever. Still, he grinned at (Name), “Well, you might get away with telling them his father will fill their bed with scorpions in their sleep,” he suggested, though she knew he was teasing.

She laughed, and it felt good, for both of them; the night had been heavy with thought and to laugh, at last, felt good. This would not be easy...but they would have to make things work. If Ahkmenrah wanted to see Evan, she could not deny him; she truly thought the boy was Ahkmenrah's, the more she thought about it, the more she looked at the two of them. She stopped suddenly, and she frowned, “Ahk...”

“Yes?”

“Should we...tell him? I mean, he's too young, yet, but when he's old enough...” She was looking at her son now, watching him sleep, “I mean, I intend to tell him the truth, when he's old enough...that he was...” She shook her head suddenly. “I don't...I know he's not...he's yours. But I don't want him to...think that anything like that is okay,” she said softly. “I want to explain to him. But the man who raped me and you are...two entirely different people,” she breathed. “Not just in looks, either,” she murmured, frowning, “but to explain to him...”

The pharaoh reached out and took both her hands, drawing her attention to him, now. “That will be a few years away,” he said gently. “Perhaps we can think of something before then,” he suggested, trying to calm her gently; she was definitely stronger, he could see, but he also saw traces of the shy, timid young woman he'd first met.

She smiled, then, very slowly, but she squeezed his hands in thanks. Somehow, he could always help her calm down, and even something so small as what he'd done was enough to sooth her. “Thank you,” she said softly, the only way she could reply, without tying her tongue in to knots.

He offered her a sweet, warm smile, and he brought both her hands to his mouth, brushing his lips over her knuckles. “You would make a fine queen,” he declared, though it was soft, and a little sudden.

Of course, she flushed red in to her ears, the blush bright enough to put a tomato to shame, and he saw her squirm at the compliment, but he truly meant it. She struggled, but at last, she found a reply somewhere in the back of her mind, “Well, God on Earth, perhaps you should speak to your gods about that...” She was smiling, teasing a little, but he heard the longing beneath it all; the want to have him in her life, to have him with Evan, “Because if they would allow us, I would gladly take that offer,” she said softly, squeezing his hands, and he saw the brief shine of tears in her eyes again; she knew how impossible it already was, to bear his child so strangely...and to see him, years later, a king murdered in his youth, not aging. Her heart, surely, would break very, very hard.

He was on his feet then, and he drew her with him, pulling her in to his arms; he was strong, and warm, and at that moment, she took it in, selfishly memorizing the moment while she could. She knew this couldn't last...but she would long for it, and she could already feel the crack forming in her heart. Still, her arms went around him, and she held tight, pressing her face in to his shoulder greedily; she wanted all of this she could have while she had the chance.

But time was not on their side, and at last, he let her go, sighing, and he reluctantly took the little paper she gave him with directions. He didn't want to go; he didn't want to leave Evan, and he didn't want to leave (Name). It was not only his son that made him want to stay.

She walked with him to the door, and though she knew she shouldn't, she stood on her toes, her arms circling his neck, and she kissed him softly. “Thank you, Ahk,” she breathed against his lips.

He was surprised, but he couldn't resist; his arms slid around her waist and drew her close, and he bent his head, kissing her back, not quite willing to let her go, but when his teeth softly tugged at her lip, she didn't resist; despite her previous, foul experiences with men, she trusted him, clearly, and she opened to him, kissing him until they were both breathless, and she clung to him, pressing her face in his neck. “I shouldn't have done that,” she murmured, but she wasn't pulling away. “My God, you can kiss,” she breathed.

He laughed, and she felt it against her, but he dipped his head and kissed the top of hers gently, but a moment later, he sighed. “I must go,” he admitted.

She gave a sigh, too, feeling the weight of time pressing close. “I know,” she murmured, and she gently freed herself from him, trying to make herself smile.

He managed that far better than she did, but he leaned in, kissing her cheek softly. “I will see you tomorrow night,” he breathed in her ear, “my little Queen of Stars.”

She flushed red, but didn't know what to make of that; she didn't have time to ask him anything, either, in her shock, as he left, knowing he must. She watched him disappear in to the elevator, staring too long, but at last, she knew she must sleep; her little one would be up soon, and she would need her energy. She, once more, gave enough time for the pharaoh to get back, and gave the museum a call; Larry let her know that he was safely inside, and at that, (Name) knew she had to sleep. She stopped to pull the blankets back over her little one, leaning in to softly kiss his forehead, and then climbed in to her own bed, exhausted.

 

The day had been full; she had taken the time off, not just to see the museum, but to assure that her baby could have fun, too; she took him out and they had ice cream and went sight-seeing, but she made sure that she wore him out enough for a little nap in the afternoon; he would be up late again, and she wanted to make sure he would be able to see the museum again, but she also wanted him tuckered-out that night, too.

At last, she took him back to the museum, earlier, this time; the sun had not yet set, and she hoped to time it neatly so that Evan would have as much time as possible to see everything. Larry, surprisingly, was waiting for her at the entrance, and she greeted him softly; he smiled at her, and at Evan, “Hey guys,” he said, and turned to the little one, “You passed out pretty good, little buddy. Did your mom get to sleep in this morning?”

“No such luck,” she said, but she was smiling. “But she _did_ get a nap in when he did,” she said, taking her son's gloves, scarf, and hat as he took them off; she put them, and her own, in her backpack.

“I had to wake her up! She promised me ice cream!”

“Well, you definitely couldn't let her get out of that,” he said, grinning.

“Oh, he got his ice cream...he was very good today, so he got an extra topping,” she said, reaching out to ruffle his hair.

Larry chuckled when the little boy gave an enormous grin, but he turned to look at the T-Rex skeleton, frowning, “Mister Larry?”

“Yeah, buddy?”

“Why isn't it moving?”

“Well, it's not time yet...there's a few minutes left,” he said, glancing at (Name); she obviously knew what happened at night, but he wasn't sure how much the little one knew. “But it'll start really soon,” he promised.

Evan turned to his mother, reaching up for her, and once her jacket was off, and put neatly in to the backpack, she lifted her son quickly. He held on to her shoulder, urging her to go closer, and she obliged. It seemed like another slow night, and (Name) was grateful; Evan would be able to see more.

She was surprised, however, when a man in a suit and a bow tie approached, looking her over distastefully, “Miss, the museum isn't open late tonight...I'm afraid you'll have to leave.”

“Ah, Doctor McPhee, I hope it's alright...she's a friend,” Larry said quickly, jumping in and dashing over.

“Well, Larry,” the man said slowly, still seeming offended by (Name) and her son, “She _will_ have to leave shortly. You have to do your job, after all,” he reminded.

“Of course, sir,” Larry managed swiftly, but he noticed that the man looked ready to leave, anyway, quite thankfully. “I always do,” he said, not wanting McPhee to think he was going to try anything.

“Hmm...I suppose you do,” McPhee admitted at last, reluctantly. Still, he gave Larry a hard look, “She'd best not mess anything up, nor her toddler,” he insisted. “And they'd better not be here when I get back tomorrow, either,” he added. He stopped, seeming to look at the little one again suddenly, and turned to Larry, then back, and back again, “You know...he looks...familiar.” He hummed to himself, and then shrugged, ducking out the doors swiftly, and (Name) looked after the strange man with her eyebrow raised.

“Is he always...?”

“Yes.”

“Bless you,” she muttered.

That particular reply earned a chuckle, and he looked at (Name) with a smile, “Well, I have to do a quick sweep to make sure everyone is out...I should be back before sunset,” he added quickly.

“Is it okay if we wait here? I think Evan wants to see...Rexy? Right? I think he wants to see Rexy wake up,” she said.

“Sure,” was the quick reply, and Larry was off. (Name) peered out the doors and knew that sunset was near; the dinosaur would move soon and Evan would get to marvel at the magic that, though he didn't know it, had helped bring him to the world. The thought itself was awe-inspiring for (Name), not just because of the exhibits, but because of her little Evan. This place was...magic. Pure magic.

(Name) hadn't spent much time in the main portion of the museum before, but Ahkmenrah had told her about the dinosaur before, and it had been her first sight when she'd come in that first night. So, when he began to stir, shaking off some of his stiffness, she wasn't startled, but Evan's eyes grew wide and he squeaked, “He's awake!”

The dinosaur sniffed at the little boy curiously, and then carefully nudged his head, and (Name) laughed. “I think he wants you to pet him,” she suggested.

Evan reached up and put his hand on the giant skeleton, rubbing his snout, and Rexy snorted, ruffling mother and son's hair, earning another little squeak of delight. “Mama, he's awesome!”

“He's super awesome,” Larry called. “He likes to play fetch,” the guard offered, approaching as Teddy and his horse cantered over, a grin on the former president's face.

“Evan!” It was that same booming voice that had easily caught (Name)'s attention the first night; the president knew how to catch the attention of anyone with his voice, it seemed. “Hello, son,” he greeted, “I'm glad to see you again today!”

“Hi Mr. President!” The little boy reached up and shook Teddy's hand, earning a delighted chuckle and a wide grin from the man. “Mama promised we could come back. I wanted to see the dinosaur!”

Teddy, of course, wasn't offended by that; the little boy was too young yet to truly be interested in the museum for the history itself, but he could learn a little bit, anyway, just from seeing these things. (Name) was grinning the whole time, and she squeezed her son, “Well, what do you think? Do you want to see more tonight?”

“Is it okay?” The little boy looked worried, a frown on his face, “That man said we had to leave,” he said.

“You can definitely stay, buddy,” Larry said, grinning. “He just wants to make sure nothing happens to the museum,” he explained.

“I promise I'll be careful!”

“Good boy! Well, you can go wherever you want,” Larry said, smiling.

(Name) put him down, at last, and she crouched before him, “Well, what did you see last night?”

“Well, I got to see the miniatures! I saw Jed and Octapus, and the monkey played with me! And the I got to see the lions and the elephant through the gates...they were kinda scary,” he said.

His mother laughed, and she shook her head, “That sounds awesome...but I think you saw _Octavius,_ ” she said gently, pronouncing it slowly. He pronounced it a few times, and after a little correction, thankfully, the little boy managed to get it right. “Did you see anything else, baby?”

“Some stuff, but it wasn't as fun,” he said, shaking his head.

“Well, what do you want to see tonight?” She was interrupted when she heard a soft jingling, and looked up to see that Ahkmenrah had joined them; it took time, after all, to climb out of his sarcophagus and unwrap himself, and then to put on his robe and crown. “Ahk,” she greeted, a little smile on her face.

He smiled at her, and at Evan, a slow, genuine smile; he was glad to see that, indeed, they had returned; a part of him feared she would not bring him back, knowing what pain came with the situation. Evan still seemed awed by the pharaoh, but he looked at his mother, “Can we go see the fishy stuff? There's an ocean part of the museum!”

“Sure, sweetheart,” (Name) said quickly, a smile on her face, but her heart rate had jumped up, just seeing the king smile at them that way.

He turned to Ahkmenrah, looking thoughtful, and then looked at his mother, “Can Mister Ahk come with us?”

She laughed, relieved that he at least seemed to take an interest in the king, without being forced, “He definitely can,” she said, “if he wants.”

Ahkmenrah seemed relieved, too, and he smiled at the little boy, “I would love to come along, Evan,” he assured quickly, and he watched his son tug (Name)'s arm, urging her to hurry.

Larry pointed them in the right direction, and the three set off, not noticing the smiles that had appeared on their friend's faces.

Of course, the moment the little boy saw the whale floating near the door, he was enraptured; he wasn't yet interested in history, but to see the fish kept his attention well, and (Name) and Ahkmenrah struggled to keep up with him at times; it seemed all his energy had burst forth and he wanted to look at absolutely everything. He saw moving fossils and watched videos with wide eyes, and the two adults were at his beck and call; they read descriptions to the little one, and lifted him when he asked, though they did keep him in check, too.

As they followed him through the exhibits, (Name) spoke, at last, “Last night,” she began softly, “you...you called me...”

“My little Queen of Stars,” he said simply, edging closer to her, but with Evan darting about, he didn't wrap his arm around her, as he wished.

“May I ask...why?” The thought still made her blush, but the blue tones of all the displays, at least, made it a little harder to see.

When he took her hand, lacing their fingers, she could not protest, though she knew she should; as much as she might have tried to prevent her heart breaking, she knew her heart was far stronger than her mind in this. “Well,” he said softly, seeing his son stop, awed, at a video of an underwater volcano, “whether the Gods approve or not, I shall think of you as my queen...and Evan as our prince,” he explained, softly, admiring the way their hands fit together; she fit in to him, and he had relished the feeling when he had her in his arms the night before. “And though we cannot see the stars here, it is only when night falls that I can see you,” he murmured, his voice tender.

Her hand squeezed his, and it was so tight that he had to look away from Evan; he saw the shine of tears in her eyes again, but she never set them free. When she spoke to him in return, though her voice was quiet, he heard the soft crack of emotion in it, “You're quite a poet,” she teased, but he knew she had taken in every word. “Thank you,” she breathed, glancing at him, keeping his hand. She didn't know what to say; she could not truly thank him enough for everything he had done, and she was aware that she was falling for him, if she had not already. But she smiled ruefully, “But...little?”

He laughed at her now, and thankfully, Evan's attention was caught in full; the Egyptian leaned in and softly kissed her temple, “You are a bit tiny,” he teased, comparing their hands; his were enormous to hers. “But you know I mean that affectionately,” he said softly, squeezing the hand he still held.

She pouted at him, but it wasn't whole; she loved to hear his laughter, and to have him show her this affection...she was lucky, she knew. She thought back to the moment she had seen him; she had nearly lost her breath at first sight of him, and now, she wondered, if she had not lost her heart in their first meeting. This was utterly _impossible_ , yet she knew she could not control herself; her mind and her heart were at odds, and she had ever been ruled by her heart. That had gotten her in trouble before...but now, it seemed to have repaired the damage, to hold affection for the young king, even if, one day, it might break even worse. She hesitated, though, and spoke at last, “What was your title?” She paused, and she chuckled after a moment, “If you had one, at least. You've given me one.”

He smiled at her, “Quite a lot more boring than yours, if you must know,” he teased, but they were following Evan again; the video had restarted and he was looking around once more. “Ahkmenrah, Fourth King of the Fourth King,” he said simply.

She thought about that, and let out a little humming noise, “Hmm. Definitely not elegant enough, I think,” she said thoughtfully, and he let her think as they walked, amused by the look on her face; he thought it adorable. “Well...” she said, some steps later, still trailing her son, and holding Ahkmenrah's hand, “If I'm the Queen of Stars...you should be the Celestial King,” she said at last, nodding. “King of all Celestial Bodies sounds more regal, if you don't mind your title being a mouthful,” she teased.

It brought him to laughter again, and delighted, he squeezed her hand, “Well, it's certainly less formal than the other,” he teased lightly, “though I might accept, so long as it is you who calls me such,” he added.

She squeezed back, and she laughed, too. “Well, at present, I think we're the only ones who would know or have reason to do so,” she said, smiling, but she was happy, living in the moment. It felt...wonderful, to have his company, and to see Evan so excited.

His lips formed a grin at that, and he drew their clasped hands to his mouth, pressing his lips against the back of hers, “In that case, I'll accept...but only the latter, just so I can hear you say it,” he teased.

Another laugh bubbled up, and she squeezed his hand, feeling the blush surface once more; she seemed to do it so often with this man, though she suspected her attraction might have had something to do with it. “Mm,” she hummed, but she was still smiling, following her son; he was going to tire himself out long before they managed to finish even this portion of the museum.

Ahkmenrah couldn't help watching her, though he always had some small attention on his son, too. It seemed an impossible thing, to split his attention between this woman and the little boy that had taken his heart the moment his mind caught up with his eyes; he knew he would gladly spend a lifetime, a _final_ one, with these two people, if he could; if he did not wake again, so long as he could have a life with (Name) and Evan...he would gladly do it. He wanted to watch them both, because (Name) looked happy, happier than he had ever seen her, and it made her glow; she had come so far from their first meeting, and she was strong, and beautiful, and he knew that he had lost his heart to her already. And his son...his _son!_ The boy could not be from anyone else, and to watch the little figure, so interested in everything, wide-eyed and happy...he thought his heart might burst from his chest. It was the one organ that was left after mummification, and each night, it was the first he felt; his heart beating, his _real_ heart, and now, it was flooded with joy. The circumstances were anything but usual, but...well, he, now, was anything but usual.

His hand tightened on hers, and he pulled her closer, unable to help it; he wished he could wrap his arm around her, but this would have to do. Her presence was warm and it helped fill gaps he had not realized were so large; he missed his family, and at times, he even missed home; he missed his own time and place in the world, sometimes, if only for knowing what was going on. But that longing was eclipsed by missing his parents, and once in a while, even his brother. The warmth she gave off, the sweet presence and goodness of her heart, however, was enough to begin to fill in the gaps of want. She made his heart ache less for a piece of home, and more for a home of his own, and though there was some pain with that feeling, it was...well, in an odd sense, it was _good._

They watched the little one running about, still looking at everything, but they did not need to speak; to see Evan having fun was enough for both, and any request from the little figure was quickly satisfied. Still, they could not quite keep from linking their hands, holding on to each other in what small way they were able, and when, at last, Evan was too tired to keep walking, but insisted on seeing the rest of the ocean things, Ahkmenrah lifted the little boy with one arm, walking through the display with (Name)'s hand in his, letting the little boy see everything.

(Name) tugged his hand when they had one wall left, “He's out,” she whispered, smiling. She was carrying the pharaoh's beads, for Evan's comfort, and the little one had passed out in his father's arms, chin on his shoulder, one arm around his neck, the other loosely clutching his robe. But this was enough for Ahkmenrah; he walked with (Name) back to the entryway, not once even budging the little boy, though he did, at last, use his other arm to support him.

They found all of their friends in the lobby, just out of sight of the doors, since, indeed, the museum was supposed to be “closed” for the night. It seemed, too, that they hadn't been as loud as they might have been ordinarily, considering Evan; they had figured, at some point, that the two would come back with an exhausted bundle in their arms, and they were right indeed. Evan didn't stir when Ahkmenrah took a careful seat on a bench, allowing the little one's weight to fall in to his lap, and his mother even dared to pull his little legs so that he sat sideways on the pharaoh; the tiny figure never stirred; if anything, he pressed closer to Ahkmenrah, holding a little tighter to the pharaoh's robe as he sighed.

The little boy had clearly completely tuckered himself out, and (Name) leaned in, softly pressing her lips to the top of his head, smiling.

**_ End Chapter _ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so, so much for reading. I hope for your continued enjoyment, and, as always, comments, questions, and suggestions are gladly accepted and appreciated.


	6. Chapter Six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  ** _DISCLAIMER:_** I do **NOT** own _Night at the Museum_ , or any of its contents, characters, actors, ideas...or anything at all related to it. I never have, and I never will. This is written for fun. I’m dirt poor, so sorry. This is for my entertainment and for those who read this.
> 
> I also don't own anything remotely recognizable in the story; music, devices, brand names or anything; if you recognize it, I don't own it. I make nothing off of anything. None of my works provide me a profit. Basically, **_I own absolutely nothing._** Point blank.
> 
> As always, I want to thank you all for your support. You're all fantastic and I truly appreciate your show of fondness for the work. Thank you so much.
> 
> Now, I admit that this chapter is a bit of a favorite of mine, thus far. It's got ups and downs and a very, very important question at the end.
> 
> Therefore, without further ado, I hope that you all enjoy this new chapter.

**_ Chapter Six _ **

“Little man's exhausted!” It was a tiny voice, coming from the floor, and (Name) saw Jed looking up at Evan, passed out cold. “He's a bundle of energy, I tell ya.”

She smiled slowly, “He is that,” she said softly, chuckling. “Thankfully, he usually knocks himself out pretty well,” she added.

Attila, though curious, didn't approach too closely; he'd seen the child before, and, like the others, was surprised by his likeness to the pharaoh, but he didn't plan to disturb the little one. Dexter was perched on his shoulder, watching, too; even the little monkey seemed to realize he shouldn't stir the child, but he was watching closely; he'd had fun with the boy, after all. “He's a good kid,” Larry said suddenly; like the others, his eyes were on Evan.

Ahkmenrah felt Evan sigh, and the boy turned in to the king's chest, curling up, though he didn't seem to wake up; he merely adjusted his position, sighed again, and settled once more. “We should take him home,” he murmured softly, turning to (Name).

Teddy and Sacagawea both nodded to this idea; the little one was clearly tuckered out, beyond exhausted, and he needed to be in a bed. “Larry, do you still have that jacket for Ahk?” It was, thankfully, the soft voice of Sacagawea; Teddy boasted a loud voice that carried well.

“Actually, I bought one on my way,” (Name) said suddenly, “I...had the feeling he'd insist on walking me to the hotel, so I thought I should prepare,” she admitted, smiling, and she pulled her backpack off carefully, putting her coat and other warm items aside, and Evan's, too; the jacket she had for the pharaoh was in the bottom, and she unfolded it neatly; it seemed about the right size. “He barely squeezed in to the other one last time; if he actually had lungs, they might've stopped,” she teased.

Though the pharaoh gave a chuckle and a grin at that, the others seemed disturbed by her statement, looking at her oddly. “Thankfully,” he said, not wanting to make her uncomfortable, “I haven't had lungs for years...unless, of course, the tablet has regrown them,” he added; the thought struck him, then, that, indeed, stranger things had happened; the little boy in his arms was a fine example.

The thought passed through each of them, but it was dismissed; when Teddy had been cut in half, he had, indeed, been wax; not flesh and blood...but perhaps it would be different for a living human? But, having no way to be sure, it was not something to linger on, and (Name) reached out, softly squeezing her son's shoulder, “Baby, will you let me put your jacket and gloves and hat on?”

He groaned and clutched at the king's robe, but then reached up and rubbed his eyes, “Mama? What did you say?”

She chuckled, and she ruffled his hair, “Let me put your coat on. It's time to go back to the hotel,” she said softly.

With minimal effort, the little boy allowed himself to be wrapped up warmly; he gave a little fight with his gloves, since he just wanted to sleep, but at last, he was dressed for the cold air outside. Ahkmenrah, too, had removed his crown—his beads were already gone—and his robe, and, thanking (Name), had pulled the jacket on; it fit far better than the one borrowed from the lost-and-found pile. He then took Evan, and (Name) was able to wrap up, too. Sacagawea approached, however, as the quietest of them, and she looked at the child asleep on the king; the thought had been in the air all night. “The tablet truly did...give you Evan, did it not?”

The others were looking at them, waiting, wanting to know; this was out of their knowledge and reach, and if the tablet could do such...well, it was a wonder something else had not happened. But looking at them, and then at her son, and then at Ahkmenrah, she finally nodded, “Yes,” she said, slowly. “In truth, I have no idea how...I know only what you know; perhaps less. But this...I was...already pregnant,” she admitted. “The man that....well, he drugged me, raped me, and despite efforts to the contrary, I found out...the first night that Ahk walked me home,” she murmured. “I was devastated, and scared, and I didn't know what to do; I ran out of my hotel and wound up here.” Her eyes had turned to Ahkmenrah, now, lingering on the pharaoh before she spoke again, “I don't know how; both times, I came by mistake, but...but when Ahk found me that night, after...he helped me. You are all kind, you are, but Ahk...” She was looking at him again, and at her son. “Ahk saved me. I don't know...what I would have done. I can't explain it...but whatever magic that tablet has, it gave me a miracle,” she said softly. “I can't...prove it, but I think...I'm sure...”

“He is my son,” the pharaoh said suddenly, but it was firm. “Indeed, I don't know how the tablet has done it...but I know that Evan must be mine,” he said softly, looking at the little boy.

Sacagawea reached out, and she touched Ahk's shoulder gently, not stirring the little boy, but a firm touch that reassured the pharaoh when he felt unsure; what would happen? Whatever the other exhibits thought, he knew how he felt about this, and he would always want Evan to return. But he was faced with the fact that he could not age, could not die...and Evan seemed to grow by the moment; time was relative, indeed, but it seemed far too fast to the pharaoh at that moment. “Then (Name) and Evan are part of the family now,” she said softly, speaking for everyone; she knew they would feel the same, even as puzzling as the circumstances were. Indeed, there were nods and murmurs of agreement, but in the back, Larry felt a pang in his heart; he knew this would wear on them all. But he knew that it was what Ahkmenrah wanted, and, indeed, what the others had been thinking; anyone who'd spent any time with the child adored him.

(Name) felt tears well in her eyes, and she blinked them back fiercely, “Thank you all,” she murmured softly.

“Of course,” Sacagawea murmured, but she gestured to Evan—the little boy did need to go to bed; he had already curled in to the pharaoh's chest, clutching his jacket, sleeping soundly. With brief goodbyes, Larry let them outside, and once more, (Name) curled her hand in to the pharaoh's elbow, guiding him, their walk silent. Inside, (Name) carefully pulled her son's warm things off, and, as the night before, once she had the covers pulled down, Ahkmenrah put the little one down, and (Name) covered him. As she went to the table once more, he leaned down, softly kissing the little boy's dark hair, but the little one didn't stir; it seemed that he did tire himself out well.

He joined (Name) at the table again, just watching her write; she had neat handwriting, and to see her concentrate seemed...wonderful, to him. It was a small, stolen moment that he might not have gotten in the museum. He could not help when he spoke, however, “You know...” She lifted her head to him, smiling a little, to let him know she was paying attention. “The moment I saw you, (Name), I knew my heart was lost,” he said softly.

She blushed again, and she shook her head slowly, “You...?”

“I am not sure how...but when I saw you, the first night, when you spoke...I _knew._ ” He took her hands, holding them gently, “It's true, you know, that the Egyptians left the heart in during mummification,” he said softly. “We thought it the center of thought and feeling...in truth, I most likely don't have a brain, unless the tablet has done a miracle again,” he murmured. “But when first I looked at you, when you explained what you thought magic was...I _felt_ it, as though you had pulled at the heart in my chest,” he continued. “I thought you beautiful, of course, but at the moment my eyes found you...I cannot explain what I felt, but I think it is the first time I have felt anything in...” He stopped, and he squeezed both her hands. “I can think and feel and live, thanks to the tablet; I'm granted life each night, but I don't think I appreciated it until I laid eyes on you,” he breathed. “And you and Evan...I fear my heart may burst.”

Her own heart was beating so fast and hard against her chest that she thought she might have internal bruising; she felt dizzy with the weight of his words, surprised by their suddenness, and the _sincerity_ of them. He meant each word, he spoke from the heart, and not one thing he said could she tease him about; not even about his lacking brain, because her heart ached with his declarations. She could not begin to imagine what she could say to him, and her mind felt blank; she felt, if, indeed, anyone was brainless, it was herself. Instead, she acted on what little instinct had remained; she stood, and leaning over, her lips found his.

The kiss was not the same as the first; that had been a test, timid, seeking, but trying to resist. It was not like the second; wanting, giving in as far as they could, yet held back for the knowledge of their situation. It was tingling and the pharaoh couldn't help reaching up; his hands tangled in her hair, needing something to hold, because she had kissed him with _so much_ feeling that his heart had jumped. He could feel it pouring out of her, though there were no words; indeed, it was too much for words. He nearly swore when he felt her hand in his hair, tugging softly, her teeth on his lip, and the kiss that she had meant to be simple, had meant to speak after it, had meant to thank him, had meant to say something turned to far more. 

They kissed until they were both far past breathless, and his hand had dropped to her ribs, beneath her breast; he could feel her breathing as hard as he was, panting, but he didn't want to let her stop. Her lips were swollen and sensitive with bites, darker than before, and her pupils were enormous. She looked wild, with her hair mussed from his grip, her wide eyes, her lips gently parted, and he found it much more appealing than he thought he should, yet he went back for little kisses between their panting.

Of course, he didn't realize that he was in the same state; though she truly had meant to speak to him, it seemed that her heart, indeed, was far stronger than her head, and she had kissed him with all the feelings he'd evoked. The pharaoh looked ruffled indeed, and even his lips were darker from their kisses; it was enough to make her ready to drop to her knees and thank every God that her son slept like a rock.

At last, she made herself pull farther away from him, but it was slow; not meant to be a rejection, but knowing she must, and she took one of his hands once she had settled in her chair again. She hesitated, but he was willing to wait; he must, he thought, because he knew...he knew this couldn't go on. “I know...I know you have all but said it, but Ahk...you shouldn't...”

He smiled at her, and this one was sad, even through his swollen lips and wide eyes, “I think that you, of all people, know that the heart is the hardest part of oneself to persuade,” he advised.

She trembled, just for that sad smile of his, and she squeezed his hand tighter, “Then give that to Evan. You shouldn't...”

“The love given to a child is far different to the love given a spouse,” he said, despite what he knew; they weren't married, but his feelings for her were more than enough. Her heart ached; she had hoped he would not say it. It was hard, already, because the night had been perfect, but her thoughts always drifted to years down the line; when she was old, and gray, and Ahkmenrah was as young and perfect as ever. Even if he still cared for her then, it would not be...it would be too hard. The tears that she had managed to hold back for so long at last spilled over, and she shook her head, but he was already there, kneeling before her, reaching up to wipe them away. He whispered something, and it sounded strange to her, yet it was sweet; she couldn't understand, but his tone was warm. It must have been his native language, she thought, but she didn't ask him. He stroked her cheeks softly, and when he stood, he leaned in to softly kiss each of her eyes, “Do not weep, little queen,” he soothed, and she let out a quietly hiccuped giggle; she wasn't sure if it was nerves or true laughter, but he was still there, close, and warm, and perfect. “I might break if I'm the cause,” he murmured.

She shook her head again, but she tugged at him gently, until he was sitting on the second bed in the room. She sat at his side, and tugged again; he fell on to it, and she curled in to his chest. “Is it okay if I'm scared?”

Her voice was so quiet that, at first, he had thought it his imagination. But it was her, and the question tore at his heart as fiercely as her tears; both his arms surrounded her. “I will love you for eternity, (Name),” he murmured, but the statement was just that; fierce, and bold, and she knew he meant it.

“But one day, I'll be gone...one day, so will Evan,” she murmured, admitting her fears. “I'll grow old and gray and you can't age,” she said, trembling. “You'll always be like this,” she breathed.

“My heart is yours, (Name); it belongs with you, and with Evan, and time will not change that. Whatever might come, I will love you,” he said.

She wanted to ask him what she was supposed to do, watching him, ever young, yet she would begin to feel time creep up on her; she would feel aches in her bones, and she would see her son grow up and marry. She would watch time fly for all but him; he would linger, ageless, and she was not sure she could bear it. Instead, she nodded slowly in to his chest, trembling.

At last, once she had calmed down, he stroked her hair, and he kissed her forehead, standing a moment later; he knew he must leave. She finished the directions and gave them to him, following him to the door, but she seemed utterly exhausted. She opened her mouth several times, but she couldn't seem to speak, so, instead, he softly kissed her forehead, “It's okay,” he said softly, soothingly. “You don't have to say anything.” He knew it was hard enough for her, and though he would like to hear her say it, like to know that she felt the same way...he would never make her say it. When she nodded, however, he tilted her chin up, softly kissing her, just once. “Will you return tomorrow night?”

She nodded at that, and it seemed to be something she could answer, at last, because she finally spoke, “Yes...I...came for a week,” she said, “so I'll bring Evan tomorrow, too,” she offered.

He smiled at that, and though he hid it well, she could still detect the sadness there, and he leaned in, kissing her just once more. “I love you, (Name),” he murmured against her lips, and the smile seemed a little more real, “My little Queen of Stars.”

It made her smile, at last, and she gave him a kiss in return, gentle, and lingering, but he saw her eyes rimmed with tears, some caught by her lashes, and he knew he must leave. He gently pulled from her, after leaving a soft kiss on her forehead, and the young woman could not be bothered to do anything more than assure her son was covered; she climbed in to her bed, still in the clothes she'd worn that day, and without Ahkmenrah there, she set free all the pain that had formed an aching hole in her chest, clutching the extra pillow on her bed until it was soaked with tears, and she muffled her gasps with it, not wanting to wake Evan.

She was awakened by her son climbing on to her bed, crawling up to her, “Mama?”

She felt more exhausted than she had gone to bed, and realized she hadn't called the museum to make sure the pharaoh had made it back...but, surely, if he hadn't, Larry would have gone out to find him. She rubbed her eyes, and she realized it was daylight; beyond daylight, indeed, for the light streaming through the window of the hotel was bright, and the clock on the nightstand said it was much later than she should have slept. But Evan was holding on to her shirt, and she propped herself on her elbow, “Yes, baby?”

“Are you okay, Mama?”

She felt herself begin to tear up, and she knew that her son knew that something wasn't quite right, so she nodded, “I'm okay, baby. I'm just tired.” It was her go-to excuse; she wanted to be strong for her little boy, and it was far easier than explaining the whole truth, though, in itself, it wasn't a lie.

He watched her, and she knew that her son could tell that she wasn't truly feeling well; he was very smart, and she thought he must have gotten that from his father. Still, the little one made up his mind, and spoke, “Can I sleep with you, Mama? We can get breakfast later, right?”

Her heart ached and burst at the same time; she knew she was beyond lucky, beyond blessed, and she tugged her little one close, “We'll get breakfast later,” she promised, and she kissed the top of his head. “I love you, baby.”

“I love you too, Mama!”

 

The following nights were both joy and pain; she loved the time she could spend with her son, with Ahkmenrah, but there was a growing ache in her chest. She knew, despite her efforts to think of the good, that the dark thoughts and fears would gather when she was not with Ahkmenrah; he kept the foul cloud of fear from gripping her too tightly, and something about him was bright and warm and it chased away her fears for the future. He held her hand so long as he could, and each night, he carried their son to the hotel and put him to bed, and lingered, talking to her. The other exhibits at the museum, too, adored Evan, and they spent time getting to know (Name), too; they welcomed her as one of their own, and she appreciated every moment.

At last, their final night came, and the pharaoh insisted that he spend as much of it as he could speaking to Evan. The little boy listened to him telling stories and told his own in return, and (Name) thought her heart might burst to see them together. She knew that Ahkmenrah would be a perfect father.

It wasn't long, however, before the little one tuckered out; the many late nights had gotten to him, and he was so comfortable with the pharaoh that he climbed right in to his lap and fell right asleep; by now he knew it was the pharaoh that carried him home with his mother, and he seemed quite fond of the Egyptian.

(Name) had taken a moment to stretch her legs—she wasn't used to being as still as Evan had been that night—and her brief walk had brought her back to the sight of her son asleep in his father's lap, and she laughed softly, approaching the pharaoh; she sat at his side, keeping quiet, “You knocked him out,” she teased, smiling.

The pharaoh smiled at her, but he kept his arms around his son; the little boy was cuddled up to him, and the pharaoh had barely managed to remove his beads for the little one's comfort with one arm; he'd climbed in to the king's lap with no warning and had been asleep before the older man truly knew what was happening. “I think the late nights may have gotten to him,” he admitted, seeming upset; it was, after all, the only time he could see the little one, but Evan was so young that late nights were exhausting.

“He's loved every moment, though,” she said softly, reaching out to smooth out the little one's hair; it was a reflex, for, though she knew he was in good hands, she was used to caring for her baby nearly alone; her mother was the only help she'd had.

Ahkmenrah smiled at that, and for a little while, he just looked at his son, holding him close; he couldn't help it. He knew these moments would be rare; his life was...well, it was far different from the life (Name) must live; she had work, to pay for everything, and Evan had a home and friends away from here. But the pharaoh only lived at night, and he did not truly have a job; though the museum was open late many nights, it was an educational thing; answering questions, giving tours on requests...it wasn't truly work, for it was his life, and there was no profit for himself. It was just...life, for him. It was his only life, now, and this week had been stolen from another world; he had been lucky to have as much time as he did with his son, and the woman he had come to think of as his wife, as his queen. He had no people, and no kingdom, but Ahkmenrah had been raised a prince and groomed to take the throne; he acted as he was raised, though, at times, his youth did show. But he was a king, even if not formally here; it was in his blood, it was his position, trained in to him...and (Name), to him, was a queen. She had so much strength, and he admired her more every day. She had not yet admitted her love for him, but he knew it was not for lack of it; he could feel it in stolen kisses, see it when her eyes found his, and he could hear it when she teased him. She did not say it because it was too hard. To admit, even, that the pharaoh was Evan's father had taken much effort, and he could see her struggle with thoughts of the future each night. He always told her he loved her, each night, before he left, and she would open her mouth, but she could not return his words. He knew that she feared what would become of them, and he admitted that it was only logical. It was not her fear that he would stop loving her, he knew; she had, slowly, come to accept his affection, understanding that, somehow, it was not just his heart that he had given her; somehow, it was all of himself. He knew that, for all the years he had been waking at night and dying at dawn, for even his brief life, this was the woman he was meant to love.

But she feared that she wasn't strong. He saw, sometimes, when she thought he wasn't looking; he could see her gaze far off and he knew she was thinking of the future. He knew this was difficult, and he knew time would take its toll. He had already seen time take hold; he had watched Larry's son grow immensely; the young man was nearly an adult, and he, too, could see the age beginning to wear on Larry. It was a strange thing, watching only those two age, but now, he knew that time would seem a curse. They could no more predict the future than he could become a living human again; this was not truly life, and like (Name), he longed for more.

He longed to go with them.

He turned to her, suddenly, when he felt her head on his shoulder, her arm curled around his back, and her far hand covering one of the ones that was holding their child, and he tilted his head to kiss the top of hers softly. He spoke slowly, feeling that he must, “You must leave tomorrow...mustn't you?”

Her arm tightened on him, and he felt her nod against his shoulder, “First thing in the morning...I have to get home and go to work for a half-day,” she said softly.

He was silent for a moment, “You must work tomorrow, too?”

“Yeah...” She sighed, but she sat up again, turning her body enough that she could face him, “It's not much, but they gave me a half-day so I could get back in to my routine,” she murmured. “It's not so bad, but I know I'm going to miss all this time with Evan; Mom'll have him all the time, now,” she admitted, not voicing her other thought—she would miss him fiercely, perhaps as much as her time with Evan; she could see her baby before and after work, but she would not get to see the pharaoh.

The silence was longer this time, but at last, he spoke, “I wish...” His voice broke off here, and he sighed. She knew his wish; he wished he could be with them. He forced himself to change what he wanted to say, “I hope it is not too hard on you,” he managed.

She smiled, and he saw on her face that she knew that that wasn't what he wanted to say, but she didn't put that weight on either of them. Instead, she carefully leaned in, making sure not to bump her son, and softly kissed the pharaoh, “Thank you,” she said, a fragile smile forming, and it was, perhaps, worse than if she hadn't smiled at all; he felt his heart twist.

At last, he gave up one of his arms to reach for her, and she gave him her hand gladly; their fingers laced, and he brought the back of her hand to his mouth, kissing her skin gently. “You have to leave early...” It was murmured, reluctant, but he'd already made up his mind, “Will you let me walk you to your hotel?”

She was surprised by the request, but she knew where it came from; it would be their last goodbye. So, slowly, she nodded, and she pulled on her usual items, and took Evan; the little one grumbled somewhat, but at last, he released the pharaoh's robe and Ahkmenrah was able to put on the jacket (Name) had given him. They went to the lobby, and found that everyone was waiting for them; it seemed that word had gotten around. Sacagawea met them with a little smile, “You'll return again, won't you? I know that you must leave tomorrow, but we would all welcome you if you would return,” she said, sincerely.

“I will...but I can't say when,” she admitted, looking at everyone, but her eyes lingered on the pharaoh; he had grown comfortable without his crown, beads, and robe. He looked at ease in the jacket she had given him. “I was very lucky to get this week off...my boss thought I could use the time with Evan,” she said softly; the little boy was still asleep in her arms. “I'll try to come a little sooner this time,” she said, and it earned a few chuckles, but she shook her head. “I can't make any of you a promise, but I...well, I'm going to try to bring him at least once a year. That's not enough, but I can't say if I'll be able to do more,” she admitted.

The news wasn't very happy, but they all understood; over the week, they had gotten to know the two well, and they knew that they would have to wait and see how things went, in the end. Larry, however, had a small surprise, and he approached (Name), a small box in his hands. “I think...this might help us all a little bit,” he said slowly, and when she nodded to him, he opened it for her; inside was a phone; not expensive, but a generic one with only a number pad—it was a prepaid. “I thought...you might want to talk to Ahk,” he said, “So I found this...I think I can keep it in the security office for him.”

She was so surprised and touched that her eyes welled up with tears, and she squeezed Evan just a little too tightly; the little boy groaned, “Too tight, Mama...”

She gasped, but loosened her grip, “I'm sorry, baby,” she said quickly, but all she received was a little mumble; the child had turned his head in to her neck and fallen asleep again swiftly. It kept her from releasing the tears, however, and she looked at Larry, “Thank you so much...truly, thank you,” she said, and they all heard the crack in her voice; she didn't cry, but she seemed overwhelmed with emotion.

“I don't know what I'd do if I couldn't talk to Nick, and I think Ahk might feel the same way about Evan, so...” Larry knew what it was like, after all; he only got to see his son sometimes. It was nothing like Ahk, but...well, he could relate.

“Please give me the account number...I'll help pay for it,” she said, and they heard the fierceness in her voice. “I have a feeling that phone might get a little more wear than I'm willing to let anyone else pay for,” she said, and they heard the teasing, but she meant it; she knew she would call the pharaoh often; she would want to talk to him, and she knew the king would want to speak to his son, too.

Larry chuckled, but he pulled a little sheet of paper from under the phone, “I thought you'd ask.”

Somehow—probably from being the mother of an energetic little boy—the woman took the sheet, and managed to reach over her head and put it in the backpack, “Thank you again,” she said, and they still heard the wealth of emotion there.

Larry only nodded to this, and Ahkmenrah offered to take Evan, now; Sacagawea hugged the other woman tightly, as did Teddy; Attila gave her a little hug, and Dexter kissed her cheek. Both Jed and Octavius said their goodbyes, too; the cowboy took his hat off and bowed to her, and the Roman saluted her, kissing one of her knuckles; it was about as close as he could get, all things considered. At last, Larry, too, gave her a hug, and finally, she turned to Evan, and she softly shook his shoulder; he'd cuddled in to his father once more. “Sweetheart, we need to put your jacket on. We have to get to the hotel so we can go home in the morning,” she said, knowing the little one was utterly worn out.

He grumbled and clutched at Ahkmenrah's jacket, shaking his head, “Nuh-uh! I'm too tired.”

She laughed, but she gently tugged at him; she slid an arm between her little boy and the pharaoh, but the child seemed to have glued himself to the Egyptian, and she knew she must resort to drastic measures. She put her fingers on his ribs and started counting them, and it wasn't long before the tiny figure was laughing too hard to cling to his father, and she managed to tug him away and put him on the floor in a movement so swift that he couldn't resist. “There,” she said, and she turned the little boy to her, smiling. “Come on, it won't take long.”

He pouted at her, but the group around them had immense grins, and Ahkmenrah's was, likely, the biggest of all. For the first time, the child did put up some fight with his mother, but she seemed to know what to do, for she managed to wrestle him in to his jacket, get his gloves on, and she purposely pulled his hat a little too far down, worsening the pout; he reached up and straightened it himself. He reluctantly lifted his head up, too, when she wrapped a scarf around his neck, looking a little petulant, but then, huffily, he turned right to the pharaoh and lifted his arms up.

(Name), of course, pretended to be indignant and hurt, but she was laughing with the others as Ahkmenrah picked the little boy up, allowing him to settle in to him; the pharaoh was grinning widely the entire time. The others watched as, all bundled up, the three were let out by Larry, Evan already asleep once more.

As each time before, (Name) curled her hand in to the crook of the pharaoh's elbow, but this time, she leaned her head on to his shoulder; the pharaoh had already memorized the path to and from her hotel, now, and he relished the little bubble of warmth that came from her leaning on him that way. And as before, they tucked their son in together, making sure he was covered and comfortable, and for a time, the two merely sat on the bed opposite the little boy, watching him sleep.

(Name) had brought the phone along with them, and programmed her number in to it, and the number for it in to her own; she showed the pharaoh how to use it, but didn't actually make a call, for she feared it might wake the little boy, and he needed to rest for tomorrow. As an extra precaution, she put her mother's number in it, too, telling the pharaoh that, if something should happen that he couldn't contact her at her number, to call the other. She put it in to the pocket of Ahkmenrah's jacket, and they were both silent, not sure what to say. At last, she tugged on his arm, and for a little while, they merely laid on the bed, legs hanging over the edge, and she had turned to curl up against him, her arm thrown over his middle, her head on his shoulder.

“Ahk...”

He laid his arm over the one she had across him, his thumb feathering over her skin softly, “Yes?”

She hesitated, but she decided that he deserved this...and she knew that she would tell him one day, and he deserved to hear it now, when she could meet his eyes and he could know she meant it. So she lifted her head, putting her chin on his chest, but she was looking at him; his eyes met hers, as he had, indeed, been watching her, having pulled a pillow to put his head on shortly after she curled up on him. “I love you,” she said, and it came out far more easily than she thought it would. She had known she felt for the pharaoh, but to admit it was difficult in the face of all her fears. But she knew that it was true, and this was a step toward facing the other fears; she would take this, little by little.

At first, he didn't react; he seemed too shocked to do so. Then, without warning, he had lifted her entire body right off the bed and on to himself; she wasn't sure how he did it, but he had her atop him and he was kissing her breathless before she realized he'd even moved, and she felt him smiling in the kiss.

They were both left laughing, breaking the tense air, and she muffled hers in his chest, nuzzling him gently, but he kept his arms around her, holding her tightly, and he kissed the top of her head, breathing in her scent. He couldn't speak, but his grip was telling enough; it was possessive, yet it was warm and comforting, and she allowed herself to curl up on the pharaoh, her legs curling off to the side of him, relishing the happiness she could feel in her own heart, and the wealth of it coming from him. He did, however, reach up, and he brushed her hair from her face gently once she had managed to muffle her giggles to look at him again, delighting in the way her eyes had lit up with her laughter, and he pulled her to him again, kissing her once more, but this one was a little calmer; it was slow and sweet and lingered on her lips, and she smiled at him, content. His hands were sifting through her hair, and the gentle tugging was enough to nearly put her to sleep.

“(Name),” he murmured softly, a little while later, when her eyes had drifted closed and she might have drifted off, if she hadn't been relishing these last few moments she had. She opened her eyes lazily, and she found him looking intensely at her; it was enough to make her heart jump.

“Yes?”

“I know...it is not fair to ask you this,” he said, slowly, but she could see the thought in his eyes; it was in the intensity of his stare and though he was still tugging gently at her hair, he was being utterly serious. “And it is...most certainly an odd question, considering our circumstances, but...” For a man that had faced the first sight of his son with mere hesitation, (Name) thought the pharaoh seemed far more nervous than she had ever seen. It was an unfamiliar picture, to see him hesitating so much, and she saw, once again, his youth; he ever acted the regal king, and at times, she did forget that he was only around her age, physically. But at last, he spoke, though she had never drifted in her attention; she wanted him to know she would wait. “Would you...marry me?” The question came out very softly, and she heard the hesitation in it; the pause as he struggled with his words, and for him, it was out of place. “I would have you as my queen, if you would have me, (Name),” he said at last, and this was firmer, as he found the will to speak. “I can give you nothing but my love and my promises, and I know that modern marriage is out of the question...but in my time, often, it was merely an agreement between two people in love,” he said softly. “And I know that it is unfair to you, to ask...I am sure there are many fine men in this world who would love you, who would love Evan, too...but...”

He couldn't find the words or the reasons to give her; indeed, he had nothing better than what he had already said to offer, and he knew that all he had, now, was to wait for her, and he trailed off, endlessly nervous.

**_ End Chapter _ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, there it is.
> 
> So, the important question; what would any of you say to him? I'm quite curious; think it over! In this situation, would you agree to wed a dead pharaoh, if you loved him?
> 
> Aside from answering my curiosity, I gladly and thankfully accept comments, questions, and suggestions. Any feedback (even just to click the kudos button!) totally makes my day, and I appreciate all your support.
> 
> Thank you all for reading, and I hope you loved it!


	7. Chapter Seven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  ** _DISCLAIMER:_** I do **NOT** own _Night at the Museum_ , or any of its contents, characters, actors, ideas...or anything at all related to it. I never have, and I never will. This is written for fun. I’m dirt poor, so sorry. This is for my entertainment and for those who read this.
> 
> I also don't own anything remotely recognizable in the story; music, devices, brand names or anything; if you recognize it, I don't own it. I make nothing off of anything. None of my works provide me a profit. Basically, **_I own absolutely nothing._** Point blank.
> 
> Thank you all for the bookmarks, kudos, and comments—they make me incredibly, ridiculously happy, so thank you so much! I truly appreciate everything you guys do.
> 
> Now, the question from the last chapter seems to be a resounding _yes,_ despite all the complications and logical reasons why one shouldn't marry a dead, never-aging pharaoh.
> 
> Now, you get to read and find out what your answer is in the story.
> 
> Enjoy!

**_ Chapter Seven _ **

It was not a question she was prepared for; indeed, it was the last thing on her mind, if, indeed, it was on her mind at all. But as he spoke, shy and unsure, yet confident in his feelings, she knew the question was important to him. It was not because of Evan, either; the child did not yet know that Ahkmenrah was his father, for the situation was so complicated that (Name) had known they would have to wait to explain to him what was going on. The pharaoh had asked her out of genuine desire; he had asked because he loved her.

She thought back to the man who'd raped her; she had thought he was the one, at first. But in the end...well. And the few men she had seen since Evan's birth...they were not bad people, true enough, but they had been interested in her, and only her. She had thought them nice or intelligent; there was some attraction, for her to agree to see them, but it had never felt right, even before they showed their disregard for her son. They didn't make her feel...anything, beyond what small attraction had encouraged her agreement.

Yet the pharaoh could smile at her and her heart would flutter; holding her hand alone was...it made her feel happy. _He_ made her feel happy. It was not just seeing him with Evan, either; it was a feeling, when she had first met him, a thought, a hope. She had hoped, once she found out the truth about his...well, once she knew he was dead, she had hoped that she might find someone like him, because she simply couldn't have him. But no one else could evoke the feelings he caused in her. She had tried very hard indeed to crush her feelings toward the king after she had left the first time; the situation was impossible.

But she had failed in every aspect of that; if anything, her affection for the Egyptian had bloomed more fiercely than ever, and as she thought, she knew that her mind had been made up the moment she had seen Evan in his arms: she would not mind raising her son with only her mother to help, knowing that this man was his true father. He might need a father figure, one day, but many children had been raised without it, and they turned out fine. She had decided already; she would not search for someone, just because she felt Evan should have a father. It wasn't fair, because she knew the truth, and his father, this man, was too good for her to simply find a...a stand-in.

That wasn't fair to anyone. Not to Evan, not to Ahkmenrah, not to herself, and it would not be fair to any man she brought in to their lives.

The pharaoh did not pressure her for an answer; he could see her thinking, and though his heart was heavy with fear, he would wait. He had asked, and that was the most he could do; he had nothing to give her but his love and his promise to love her, and their son, for eternity. He knew the unfairness of their situation, but he knew his feelings, too; he loved her. It was a feeling unlike any other; no one had evoked such a thing in all his time, no one had stirred his heart, and he knew that if he lived three-thousand more years, another woman would not take his heart the way this one had. He _knew_ she was his one and only; she was surely crafted for him, and he thought, for all the world, that they were meant to be. She had been drawn to the museum by fate and he had lost himself to her.

It was little in the face of what another man could give; stability, a home, a present figure for Evan, lavish gifts, and time that the pharaoh did not have. She was an incredible woman and the pharaoh knew that there had to be many admirers; in the right environment, this woman could have drawn kings to her in the present day. She had the strength a queen needed, and the gentility of a woman with a heart of gold; her mannerisms were not, perhaps, what would be expected of royalty, but she was a woman of strength and beauty. He could imagine men falling at her feet, offering her gifts that he could not give, and he would not blame her if she did not accept his offer. Other men had far more to give.

At last, however, she spoke, and he knew she had truly thought about it, and he wanted that; he had not asked on a whim. He had thought of it since the first night he saw Evan. But to ask her had been an enormous step, and it had been made with much thought to it, and he knew that she would give as much thought to her answer. It was the sort of woman she was. “You know that I want nothing from you,” she said softly, but she was looking at him as intensely as he had looked at her; her thoughts, though slow, were deliberate. She did not have days to consider his question, but she knew her answer now, “Because you've given me...you've given me everything, Ahk,” she said, and he could feel the emotion coming from her; he heard it in her tone and he could see it in her eyes. “I think...I don't think it was just the tablet,” she murmured slowly, “that did this. I think it acted because of you.” She saw him freeze at that; he had, indeed, kept that to himself, though he had divulged his feelings about everything else. It was something he had not yet decided on; could it have happened, just because of his desires? But she could see it in him, and she had guessed, soon enough, that it must have been true. “You gave me Evan,” she said softly, “and that...that alone...I could not want more,” she murmured.

He couldn't take his eyes off her as she spoke; he knew that she would come to her answer, but everything she said was important, or she would not have taken the time to say it. So he paid rapt attention, heeding every word, memorizing them. “But you have given me so much more than you know,” she said at last. “The night that you found me on the roof...you saved my life, Ahk. When I got that call...I thought...I felt like...I felt like my whole life was over,” she admitted. “I didn't want to carry his spawn,” she breathed, not loud enough for Evan to catch, even if he'd been awake, “I didn't...I hated myself, because I felt like it was my fault, because I didn't see what he was doing...I didn't see the signs, and I felt like I had myself to blame, for being so stupid.” It was the first time she had ever truly admitted any of it out loud, and some of it she had not allowed to even fully form in thoughts; she had tried to deny it, but if anyone deserved the truth, it was this man. “And you...you took care of me,” she said, and he saw the tears in her eyes, “And you were _angry,_ not with me, but with him, and I realized it wasn't my fault.” A part of her had known, but self-loathing and misery and depression had taken hold after that monster had gotten hold of her; she'd been ashamed and she felt dirty and she _hated_ herself for letting him do it. But it wasn't just her. Perhaps she should have paid more attention...but he shouldn't have done it in the first place, either, and it was only when the pharaoh had gotten angry, not at her, but at her rapist, that she realized it wasn't all on her. “I...I'm too much of a chicken to ever think of...of ending it all, and I'm afraid of what it would do to my mother, but when I got that call, I was so scared, and so angry, and I hated myself so much...you _saved_ me that night,” she said again, stressing the word. “I might not have done anything, but I was overwhelmed, and even now...even now, I remember what he did and it hurts, and it hadn't been very long since he...” She shook her head suddenly, and the tears rolled down her face finally, “But I'm afraid I might have done something awful. I'm afraid I would've hurt myself, in all that emotion, and yet...”

His heart felt like it was being ripped out of his chest. It wasn't an easy thing to hear, and he understood her implications; she might not have killed herself, but she might have done far more damage than she intended. She had been overwhelmed and scared and hurt when he found her that night, and she had let it all out on him, and he understood what she was saying. He knew, now, why she had said it to the others; he knew that she meant it, not because of Evan, but because he had helped _her._ She hadn't known about what the tablet had done until later. Indeed, though it was a terrible thought, he understood in his heart why she might have done herself damage; he had seen her that night and she had seemed utterly broken. So he lifted his head, and he softly drew her close using one of his hands, not to interrupt, but to softly kiss her, once. “It's okay,” he said gently, trying to reassure her.

She was shaking, and he rubbed her back, but a few deep breaths calmed her down, and she nodded, finally. “But...you saved me, Ahk...and you gave me Evan,” she said, knowing, now, that he understood; she saw the fear and the pain in his eyes, but she saw, too, the understanding; he'd caught what she was unable to say. “And now...now you've given me yourself...the way you smile at me, and hold my hand...the way you act,” she breathed, and she was smiling, though he saw that it was still a little tearful, “I know that what you said...that you will love me for eternity. I know you mean that,” she said at last, and his breath caught now. “And you gave me myself, Ahk. You helped me find strength that I didn't know I had...those two nights I spent with you changed me. I've found myself because of you, and I think that is far more than anyone could ask of even a god,” she said softly, and she leaned in, now, kissing him, a slow, soft kiss, her thanks. “No man in this world could give me more than you have, Ahkmenrah,” she said, and her voice was sure now; her trembling had stopped and she was strong again. She was strong because of him. “And no man could love me as you do.” 

If his lungs had truly been in his body, he knew they would have stopped long before now; his heart was beating so hard against his ribs that he wondered if it might be alive, truly alive again, because it had not done this in all the span of his memory. But he couldn't take his eyes off her, and he couldn't find the air to breathe; he was on the edge of a cliff and she was the only thing keeping him from falling to the abyss.

Now, she took a breath, and she kissed him again, “Yes,” she said at last, and his heart soared. “I will gladly marry you.”

Her answer, when it came at last, prompted another kiss that left her giggling; she could feel him grinning even when he was kissing her, but he was so overwhelmed that he couldn't speak, and he was breathless before she was, from sheer excitement and joy, and when he sat up, she squeaked as she fell in to his lap.

He kept her close and held on to her tightly, until, at last, he found words; he drew one of her hands to his mouth, kissing her palm, “My Queen,” he breathed, and his eyes were alight, and there was so much emotion in his voice that it made her heart jump in her chest, “Truly, my Queen of Stars,” he said, and he kissed her again, and it was her turn to grin in to the kiss; his happiness was soaking in to her and she was not sure her little body could hold her own with his.

She had to pull from him when she was left gasping from quiet giggles, and she took his hand, lacing their fingers, “Well, I confess I know very little about modern marriage rituals, and I know nothing about Ancient Egyptian ones...so is this it, or do we make a vow, or...?”

He was smiling at her, and it was utterly beautiful. “Well, often, we Egyptians could not even be bribed out of a good celebration with entirely too much drinking...but I think that was less for the couple and more for our love of celebration,” he teased. “But in this case, we did not truly have a ritual of any kind, though marriage was documented,” he said, a little calmer. “But I will gladly make a vow to you,” he offered, and he tilted her head up to him, using just one finger; he was gentle, but he meant to meet her eyes.

“I will love you for all eternity, (Name),” he said, slowly, “and I promise that our son will have all the love I can give him, too,” he swore, and he sealed his words with a kiss, lingering against her lips.

She took in his words, and his kiss, gladly; for all the pain the future might bring, she knew that this was right; she could no longer deny that. So she kissed him back, and she spoke, too, “And I will love you, too, for eternity,” she said, and she felt the weight of those words when she said them; her body might perish, but she knew the heart of her would love him through all time, beyond it. “And I promise I will raise our son to make you proud,” she said, knowing that, in the absence of his father being there all the time, (Name) would have to do...but she would do what she could to raise a child that Ahkmenrah would have brought up himself. She kissed him again, and though they knew she must get up early, she merely lingered there, curled on his lap, and he held her; he did not know when he would have the chance again.

They were both startled, some time later, when the phone in the Egyptian's pocket began to buzz, and before it could begin to ring, (Name) had somehow slipped her hand in to his pocket and drew it out, answering it swiftly, but quietly, “Hello?”

“I hate to do this...but Ahk needs to get back,” Larry's voice said from the other end, and as close as the two were, the pharaoh heard him. “I'm sorry, I hope I didn't wake Evan, but I didn't know how else to get to you guys,” he admitted.

Though each felt an ache at the thought, they knew that, if Larry was calling, it was important. “It's okay...thanks for calling,” (Name) managed, and reluctantly, once she'd hung up, she stood.

The pharaoh followed, and, though he didn't want to, he joined her at the door, and he took the phone from her. He'd lingered long enough to make sure Evan was covered, and to kiss his son's forehead, but he knew he couldn't stay. Neither spoke for a moment, but at last, he wrapped her tightly in his arms, and he kissed the top of her head, “I love you, little Queen of Stars,” he whispered.

She felt tears sting at her eyes, but she pushed them down, hugging him back tightly, “I love you too, Ahk.”

Those words were enough to encourage him, and the pharaoh stole a final kiss, before he left at last.

(Name), as she always did, watched him until he disappeared, and she held her phone until it began to buzz; the pharaoh was on the other end, using a phone for the first time, but letting her know he was safe and sound, and, at last, they were forced to say goodbye. She could not be bothered to bother with changing—she only had a couple hours—and she lingered to kiss the top of her son's head gently before she finally climbed abed, almost instantly falling asleep, thanks to all the emotions of the night.

 

The months following their visit had been hard for (Name); she was, at times, utterly overwhelmed with joy, merely from the thought that she knew the truth now—Evan had a father, a wonderful one, and Ahkmenrah himself loved the little boy fiercely. So, too, did the pharaoh love her; though the marriage was merely an agreement, a vow, (Name) felt more contented by the thought of the Egyptian as her husband than she had ever dreamed she could be. Indeed, she had explained to her mother—who'd listened with utter disbelief, but was forced to believe the tale, thanks to knowing that the monster who'd hurt her daughter looked nothing like the child she bore—everything that had happened over the vacation. She told the blunt truth; that Ahkmenrah had been as surprised as herself, but had taken it in stride and had, almost at once, begun to think of Evan as his own, and that the man had cared for Evan at her side as much as he was able. It was very little, indeed, but to Ahkmenrah, who'd had no time with the child—had not even known he existed—it had been everything, even just to carry the little one back to the hotel at night. She, too, confessed that she had agreed to marry the Egyptian, and her thoughts and feelings had come out in a rush in the face of her mother; she'd always been able to go to the woman when she needed anything, and now, the truth was poured out in a late night story that lasted too long, and by the end of it, (Name) had been dizzy with all her emotions and could only hope that her mother understood her thoughts, her _feelings,_ and would accept that, however unorthodox the circumstances, she was married and Evan had a father.

It took the older woman a little time to wrap her mind around all of it—it had come out in a rush and it was such a strange tale that, even on a normal day, she would have had to think on it. But, at last, she had accepted the whole of it; even that her daughter had agreed to marry a king who'd deemed her his queen. But she was, often, all that (Name) had, and she knew that it was important to her daughter that she understand, even if she couldn't fully accept all that had transpired, but, like her daughter, she was an open-minded woman, and she dearly loved (Name) and Evan. In time, too, she had asked to come the next time; she wanted to meet the pharaoh, and see the wonders of the museum for herself, if (Name) would be comfortable with it.

That, too, had been joyful for (Name); her mother's acceptance, though not a necessity, was desired. She was a grown woman, and could make decisions for herself, but her mother was so vastly important to her; she took care of Evan and loved him as much as (Name), and to have the older woman take the strange tale in stride, and ask to meet the pharaoh! It made her heart soar.

But she felt the ache in her heart that came from being away from him; she realized, now, that it was not simply a statement, when her husband had insisted that he'd _lost his heart_ to her. At times, it was such a fierce pain that her hand went to her chest and pressed there, and she couldn't fathom how her mother had handled the loss of her father; even being away from Ahkmenrah made her feel like a hole had been torn in her chest. It was so strange, and so fierce, that she wondered if, indeed, this was an unnatural love, not just because of their situation, but because of its strength—could he have been right, that they were made for each other? All her life, she had been surrounded by religion, and she knew her thoughts on the matter, but now, she began to wonder—if the Egyptian Gods could have given power to that tablet, could they have crafted her, so far away in time and space, for the king himself? She had often questioned religion, for all there was of it; different branches, different gods, different beliefs in the same god or gods...it was as diverse as the peoples of the world and sometimes, indeed, she had wondered if it wasn't all somehow connected.

She tried to comfort herself with the thought that, if, indeed, they were destined, that, surely, they were destined to spend eternity together, and her heart knew she must include Evan; their son could not be left out, for she loved him as fiercely as she did her husband.

But during late nights when she could not talk to Ahkmenrah, fearful dreams left her restless and she had more than once awoken in panic. Indeed, once, her mother had poured a cup of ice water over her when she couldn't wake the young woman; she'd been in a fitful dream, calling out strange words and reaching out physically, looking tortured.

(Name) had not slept for nearly two days straight after that one; she could not recall even a moment of what she'd dreamed, but agony so fierce had gripped her that the days were blurred and she didn't remember working or eating; the only true memory she had from those days was Evan's soft little voice, asking over and over if she was okay.

Her mother had, then, made it her duty to assure that (Name) was awake at midnight each night to talk to the pharaoh, even if it was only five minutes, and the frightful nightmares subsided with contact; she still had some, but they were far less fierce.

(Name) made sure she knew when the museum was “closed” for the night, so that she could keep Evan awake to talk to his father; Ahkmenrah dearly loved each time he was able to speak to his son, even if the little boy didn't understand why he wanted to talk; even the briefest conversation made the pharaoh feel better. He longed to see them again, but (Name) could not take the time off, and they all had to make the best of what they had; Larry's gift.

The cell phone was often stocked with minutes from (Name), knowing that she spoke to him every night; her mother would never admit it, but she'd been frightened by the event and thought that keeping in contact with the pharaoh would help, and thus far, it had seemed to work. Neither woman was quite willing to risk it, either, and the two had not told Evan the truth about her nightmare; they'd merely told the little one that his mother had been very sick and couldn't rest and get better. It was the simplest explanation they could give.

Evan grew by the moment, it seemed, and the child was vastly intelligent. He began to ask his mother about Ahkmenrah at odd times, and, though she had asked him not to, about his “father.” At last, one day, he cornered her when she asked him what he wanted for his birthday—it was close—and the little one said that he wanted to know the truth about Ahkmenrah. It seemed that the week with the pharaoh had left an impression on the child and he had been thinking about it, particularly with all the phone calls.

Her only saving grace was her phone beginning to ring—her boss had demanded her presence and it was not only her desire to avoid the question that allowed her out of it. She knew she had to ask the pharaoh that night, and even as she ran out the door—nearly forgetting her car keys—she heard Evan asking her mother, too, seeming upset.

(Name)'s mother was a magician, it seemed, for the little boy was in bed by the time she got home, and the older woman had smiled at her daughter when she came in the door, looking too tired to do anything but go to bed, but she asked her mother what she thought. The older woman thought that, if the pharaoh was alright with it, that they should be on the phone and explain, together, that yes, Ahkmenrah was his father. She admitted it would be difficult—the child would want to have Ahkmenrah in his life, just as the pharaoh wanted to be with them—but they would have to do their best to explain; Evan was getting too smart to avoid the question, now.

She was exhausted when she finally went in to her own room, and her mother promised to keep an eye on Evan, so (Name) could have her door shut for the phone call; they needed to talk. It was too early for her to call, but she didn't have long; the museum would close soon, and she could talk to the pharaoh. She needed it, more than just for the question; her heart was aching terribly that day, compounded by the fact that Evan wanted a father, seemed to want _Ahkmenrah_ himself, and she wished desperately that she could see him right then; she thought it would heal her so much, when she felt exhausted in to her toes and so tired she was on the verge of tears.

The phone began to ring, drawing her from her thoughts, and despite her eagerness, she took one deep breath before she answered, “Hello, love,” she said softly, feeling a smile on her lips, despite her exhaustion.

She could nearly _hear_ his smile in the pause, “Little Queen of Stars,” he breathed, and his accent smoothed her frayed nerves. “You sound exhausted, my love,” he murmured, and she could hear his concern; she could practically see the little wrinkle between his eyebrows as he thought. “Are you alright? How is Evan?”

He always knew, somehow. She could not help but let out the explanation in a rush, speaking a little too fast, but now that she had him on the phone, it all came streaming out; he always managed to get her to set free her thoughts and troubles and he helped her, always. She told him everything; how Evan was growing and that he was becoming too sharp for them to keep up their silence, and that he had cornered her that day; if not for a demanding call from work, the little boy's intense stare—so like his father's—might have forced her tongue. She told him what her mother thought, and in some frustration, she had to tease him, even as flustered as it made her, “You really should not have given him your intelligence—it's going to get me in a lot of trouble,” she said.

He laughed at her, and it was pleasant; it was another sound that soothed her nerves, smoothing down her ruffled feathers, and the touch of his voice reminded her of how he'd stroked her hair the last night they'd had; he'd merely held her, but it had been soothing in ways she had never dreamed. “I daresay he earned a good portion of it from you, (Name),” he said, and though the warmth of teasing was definitely in his voice, he meant that; she truly was intelligent, though he knew she didn't think so. Still, there was a pause, as he gave her words some thought, “I am more than willing to speak to him with you...but what will we tell him? Even if he's as intelligent as you say, I fear he won't understand... _why_ I can't be there,” he said slowly.

She sighed, and he heard a quiet _thunk_ through the phone; he guessed she'd probably let her head hit the wall in her exhaustion. “And if he did, I think telling his friends his daddy is actually a dead man during the day might get me in trouble; today's society...there's so much to do with protecting children, which I appreciate, but if they start asking questions, I'm not sure I could answer,” she admitted.

He was silent for a long while, but hearing him breathe was enough; she knew he was thinking. “It...would not be a lie...to say that I can't leave my 'job,'” he said at last, trying to think of even the slightest reason that they could use, until Evan was old enough to understand the full truth. They had both agreed that they didn't want to lie to their son, from the beginning; they might not tell him the whole truth, until he was old enough, but neither parent wanted to tell a full-on lie, if they could prevent it.

A rueful chuckle left her, “Definitely true...and perhaps a great understatement...but I think he would accept that,” she admitted, thinking of how smart her son was; he often missed her while she worked, but when she explained that she had to work, he seemed to understand that, at least.

He thought on that, leaning against the wall in his “tomb.” Larry was always ready with the phone for the pharaoh when everyone had gone, and the king had chosen his tomb as a fine place to find peace to think while he spoke to her. It was nothing against his dearest friends...but he wanted the private time with her, as small as it was, though there had been times that the others had offered greetings to little Evan, too; they missed the boy, though none so fiercely as his father. “Although, I admit, my lacking income and 'home' might not be so easily explained,” he murmured, after a moment; he didn't have a home in the physical sense of property, but the museum was home to him.

“He does want a father in his life,” she admitted, and she felt the pang of sorrow in her chest more fiercely than ever; she wished she could give him that. She wished she could have Ahkmenrah in her life as a permanent figure. “I fear he would ask if we could come and live with you...but it would not be a lie if I told him that we cannot leave for my job,” she admitted, thinking out loud.

He thought about that, too, and then, at last, he nodded, though she couldn't see it, “Perhaps that will suffice, for now,” he said, though he knew it wasn't enough for himself, nor for (Name); neither of them wanted this to be all it was. They didn't want to give Evan less than he deserved, and they both longed for each other, too. But they would have to make the best of what they could do, and at that time, this was their best. Still, he smiled, and she could hear it when he spoke, “You said...his birthday is coming up. Perhaps we can tell him that night, together?”

She smiled, liking that idea; it would be a magnificent gift. They planned it out so that she could wake him at midnight with a surprise; a small gift from herself—she had gotten him a few things, though she didn't spoil him terribly—and a call from Ahkmenrah, wishing him a happy birthday...and then, they would tell him what truth they could. The little gift she would give him would be enough to encourage him to wake up for the conversation, and though she knew her son would struggle to go back to sleep, it would be worth it, for she knew that this was what he truly wanted.

 

When the night came, (Name) and her mother awoke the little boy from deep sleep at midnight; it was difficult, but the promise of a present definitely gave the child energy, and he tore in to it with all the excitement he had. He loved the gift, of course—his mother knew what to get him—but she told him she had a surprise for him; she called Ahkmenrah, then, and knew that he was waiting on her call. He had told the others that he was going to tell Evan the truth, and they wanted to wish the child a happy birthday, too; through the speaker they all chorused it together, a shout that made the little phone crackle a bit, but Evan burst in to laughter and thanked them all. But now Ahkmenrah wanted the time to himself, and he excused himself; he went back to his tomb, still on the phone, a smile on his face, “How old are you today?”

“Four!” The little boy's excitement was nearly tangible even through the phone, and (Name) ran a hand through his hair gently; she and her mother were in his room, still, and she was sitting on his bed, while his mother had taken a seat nearby. “Though I think Mama doesn't want me to get any bigger. She says I'm growing too fast,” he said, pouting a little.

Though he felt a pang of agony, knowing the truth of that statement entirely too well, Ahkmenrah laughed. Evan was full of energy and he was glad that (Name) had managed to wake him to this. “Well, your mother and I have a surprise for you,” he said, and he knew that (Name) was listening the whole time. He felt nervous, perhaps even more nervous than when he had asked (Name) to be his wife; would Evan accept him? Would the little boy appreciate him as a father...? Would he understand?

He was soothed by the sound of (Name)'s voice on the other end, when he could not find a way to begin, “Evan, the other day, when I asked you what you wanted for your birthday, you told me you wanted to know the truth about Ahk.” She said this softly, and the gentility of her voice managed to calm both father and son; the son paid closer attention, now, some of his trembling excitement slowing, but it was now just waiting; would he hear what he wanted? Ahkmenrah, on the other end, caught his breath. “And I couldn't answer you, but I talked to him that night,” she said gently, “And I think he wants to tell you something.”

The magic of the tablet seemed almost a curse, because he felt so nervous that he feared he would burst; there was so much energy in him he feared it would blow him to pieces, but he had to speak; he wanted to speak. “Evan, the truth...I _am_ your daddy,” he said, using the word that Evan always used; he was used to the formality of “father” and “mother,” but Evan called (Name) “Mama” and he'd asked about his “daddy” more than once—it felt strange on the Egyptian's tongue, but he felt it was only right to use the term that his son would prefer. “And I want you to know I love you very, very much,” he said, afraid that if he didn't, he might truly break apart.

“You're really my daddy?” The word sounded much more comfortable on Evan's tongue; it was a soft word that he'd _longed_ to use as a name, rather than a question. “Like Grandpapa was Mama's?”

Ahkmenrah remembered that (Name)'s father had died some time ago, but he imagined that a father would always linger in the life of their child; his own parents did. She probably told Evan stories, and he understood that Evan wanted to be sure; he wanted to know beyond doubt. He wanted to be able to say he had a daddy and not keep wondering. “I am.”

(Name) and her mother watched the little boy take this in and think on it, very hard. He'd wanted it for so long, and (Name) had held off, at first because she was unsure; she didn't know the truth, though she could guess at it, and then, because she didn't know how to explain. But now, Evan was too smart for her to keep him in the dark, and he was smart enough to think this over, before, at last, the little boy's face broke in to a broad grin and he cried “Daddy!” with enough energy that Ahkmenrah felt like his son had leaped through the phone to hug him. It caused his own grin to grow to immense proportions; he felt, again, that his heart might burst, because he knew that this was important to Evan, and part of him knew, too, that Evan did not sound so happy just to have a father, but to know his father, and he had already shown his affection for the Egyptian in their calls, and, of course, during the week they had spent together.

(Name) couldn't help but lean in and squeeze her little boy, glad that he had accepted Ahkmenrah's words, and he giggled delightedly, “Daddy, I love you too!”

The pharaoh had never felt more joy in his life; he was not sure he could handle it, but he was gripping the phone like a lifeline, and he felt tears in his eyes for the first time in years. He wondered at the feeling, surprised by it, but he was so overwhelmed with happiness that he allowed it, relishing the feeling; it was as precious to him as the first time (Name) had told him she loved him, the night that she had agreed to be his wife. He couldn't even begin to speak, but (Name) had something to say, at least, “Evan, how would you like to go see Daddy again?”

Ahkmenrah was sure his heart stopped at that question, and then pounded against his ribs so fiercely he put his hand against it; he was afraid it might leap out of his chest. “Can we?” The voice was higher than usual and nearly a squeal, “Can we go see Daddy right now?”

She laughed, and she squeezed his tiny body, “Not tonight, baby, but tomorrow,” she said, and the pharaoh's heart hammered even harder. “I thought I might surprise you and your daddy...I have a few days off.”

The little boy, right then, could not have cared less about any of his gifts; he nearly bounced off the bed, if not for (Name) catching him around the waist and pulling him firmly in to her lap; that was part of the reason her mother was in the room, just to keep the little one from leaping out of the bed and getting too excited. “If, of course, you try to sleep tonight; we'll pack up tomorrow and drive over.”

“(Name),” Ahkmenrah breathed through the phone, his voice awed and joyous and barely audible; he sounded on the verge of tears with his joy, and there was a wealth of warmth and love wrapped in that single word, merely her name, but it spoke volumes.

She smiled, feeling her heart was about to burst with the events of the night, and the way he said her name was so sweet and loving that her head spun; she wanted to be there now, she wanted to be in his arms and to be able to kiss him for that. She wanted to see Evan run to the pharaoh and call him “Daddy” to his face and leap on to the Egyptian. But that was tomorrow, and she had to speak, “Is that okay, love?”

“It could only be better if you could have come tonight,” he said, and (Name) was looking at the phone so intently that she missed the look on her mother's face; it was the first time she had heard the two speak to each other, and she knew she must admit that they loved each other dearly. To hear the pharaoh say her name as he had...she knew the Egyptian truly cared for her daughter, and though she knew things would be difficult, many of her hesitations began to fade.

(Name) grinned, delighted, but her mother approached now, and the younger woman remembered, suddenly, that she hadn't yet asked the pharaoh how he would feel meeting her mother. “Ahk, I'm bringing my mother this time...how would you feel about meeting her, too?”

The idea was slightly intimidating to the young king; the mother of the woman he loved was surely as wonderful as her daughter, and he knew it would be an experience to see where (Name) had come from. He knew that the woman knew the truth; (Name) had told him. But to have her there...well, he would want to impress her. He loved (Name) and Evan with all his heart, and he knew that he had nothing to prove to them, but he wanted to show that he wanted the best for them, that he truly cared for them. At last, after a nervous pause, he spoke, but his words were perfectly honest, “I would be absolutely honored to meet her,” he said.

“I like him,” an unfamiliar voice said; it sounded like his lover, but it was a little different, and he adored her voice and the way she spoke so much that he caught the differences immediately.

(Name) burst out laughing, “He's a bit more impressive than that,” she said through her laughter, and it tickled the pharaoh immensely; he could hear the affection and teasing in her voice, both toward himself and her mother.

“Oh, I'm sure,” said the voice, and he could imagine that they probably looked a lot alike, too. “To sweep you off your feet like that...well, he must be something,” she chuckled.

“Believe me, he is,” she confirmed, and the pharaoh's heart skipped a beat; she was bragging about him!

“Daddy's awesome!” It was Evan's two cents about the matter, too, and Ahkmenrah thought he might burst.

**_ End Chapter _ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, there you are—truly a queen, and your son has a father that he's very, very happy with.
> 
> I hope you all enjoyed the chapter! I realize there were a couple of skips, but as much as I write, I don't like to bog down the weight with things that are too unneeded in the plot department.
> 
> Comments, questions, and suggestions are all gladly (and thankfully!) accepted. Thank you all for reading, and I hope it was as enjoyable for all of you as it was for me!


	8. Chapter Eight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  ** _DISCLAIMER:_** I do **NOT** own _Night at the Museum_ , or any of its contents, characters, actors, ideas...or anything at all related to it. I never have, and I never will. This is written for fun. I’m dirt poor, so sorry. This is for my entertainment and for those who read this.
> 
> I also don't own anything remotely recognizable in the story; music, devices, brand names or anything; if you recognize it, I don't own it. I make nothing off of anything. None of my works provide me a profit. Basically, **_I own absolutely nothing._** Point blank.
> 
> Thank you all for your continued support. I didn't earn any comments on this chapter, but I did get a new bookmark, new kudos, and more hits, so I'll take that all positively.
> 
> Enjoy!

**_ Chapter Eight _ **

(Name) grinned at the praise her son offered, but she bent her head and kissed the top of his gently, “Well. Will you try to sleep, so we can leave to see Daddy tomorrow?”

“Yes, Mama!”

“Good boy,” she said, and she finally let him out of her arms; he climbed right under his covers, and the two women kissed him good-night, and they, too, parted.

Once (Name) was in her room, she turned the speakerphone off, pulling it to her ear, instead, “I hope that wasn't too sudden,” she said softly.

“No...I have longed to see you,” he said, and she heard it in his voice. “How long have you known?”

“I hadn't made the plans until about...a week ago, but I knew I had time off about two months ago. I had to figure out when to take the time, and I thought it would be a good gift for Evan,” she said softly. “I might have come immediately, but I admit Larry called to tell me you were getting a new...section. He wouldn't tell me what, but he asked if I was coming to wait until it was open.”

Ahkmenrah was surprised, but then he chuckled; he knew exactly why Larry had called; the pharaoh had wanted to ask (Name) to come so she could see the new section, knowing she would love it, but Larry had begged him to wait until it was all finished, so that she could see it in full, and the king had to admit it was a good idea. “I shall have to thank him,” he said softly, smiling.

“Mm,” she hummed, feeling sleep beginning to tug at her; she had, in fact, spent the day packing herself up so that, the next day, they would merely need to get Evan ready.

He could hear it, even in so small a noise, and he longed to reach through the phone; he wanted to tug her to him and let her fall asleep at his side. “You should rest,” he offered, knowing that she would want to stay on the phone with him; he'd had her fall asleep on him a few times.

“I suppose,” she said, but he heard her yawn, and she chuckled when it was over. “Alright,” she admitted, but she was smiling. “Ahk?”

“Hmm?”

The little humming noise was pleasant, and it made her smile even more, “I love you.”

His lips split in a grin, and he felt his heart warm, “I love you too, little Queen of Stars,” he breathed, overjoyed to hear her say it.

“Goodnight, love,” she said at last, and he wished her the same.

He was not sure he had ever longed more for dawn, so that dusk would seem that much more immediate.

 

The next day, it seemed that the museum was closed for the night; Larry let the three visitors in through the loading bay, avoiding McPhee's judging glance, as he was surveying the new exhibits, and it kept (Name) from seeing the surprise the pharaoh wanted to give her. The three had come in just before time for the exhibits to awaken, and he pointed them upstairs; (Name)'s mother wanted to meet the pharaoh, and, indeed, Larry was sure that the little one would probably tackle the Egyptian.

At sunset, the tablet burst in to a glow; Larry had already unlocked the pharaoh so he could get out, and both (Name) and her mother saw him climbing free—they kept it from Evan, just so he wouldn't ask questions, but it was such proof for (Name)'s mother that she collapsed on to the bench outside the room, awed.

But as soon as he was free, (Name) put Evan on his feet, “Ready?”

The child nodded, and she turned him around, and, naturally, the very first thing he did was begin running. “Daddy!” The little one, luckily, was expected; the pharaoh caught him when he went leaping at his father, grinning widely, and he lifted him right over his head, earning a burst of laughter.

“Happy birthday, Evan,” he said, grinning, and he was sure his heart was going to burst; seeing Evan run toward him that way had filled him with joy. Still, he carried the little boy on his hip, now, seeing that his wife, and her mother, were outside; the elder of the two looked to be in shock.

“You're the best present ever, Daddy,” he said, and Ahkmenrah knew that he would never tire of hearing his son call him that; he could say it all night without a pause and he would still relish that one word.

Of course, the Egyptian's heart was bursting for more than just his son, and he saw that (Name) was grinning at him, her eyes alight, and he was not sure he had ever seen her more beautiful; she grew with each sight and he already thought her the most beautiful thing he'd seen, but his standard raised each time he saw her. He went to her, Evan still held in one of his arms, and he could not help to give her a small, brief kiss, drawn in by her grin. “If you become any more beautiful, I may not be able to bear it,” he said softly, and she flushed red, but she was still smiling at him, unable to help it.

“Hello to you, too,” she teased, but she turned to her mother now. The woman was staring, slightly open-mouthed, at the pharaoh; (Name) had described him, but there were still images of mummies and grumpy old men in her mind, not handsome, kind ones. He was a surprise to the older woman, and it was not simply his appearance; though she had believed her daughter, to see him climbing out of his sarcophagus was a shock. So, too, was his behavior with her grandson and her daughter; the king held Evan with one strong arm, but it was a firm and protective grip, and yet he had greeted her daughter with love and a soft kiss and a poet's words. He was a decidedly regal figure, and he struck quite an impression.

“Mom, this is Ahkmenrah,” she said softly, noticing the shock on her mother's face, but she offered her mother's name in return for Ahkmenrah, too.

The pharaoh asked Evan if he could put him down, and did so very gently; he bowed to the woman, nervous, but...well, he had survived everything thus far, hadn't he? She hadn't yet spoken, and was just looking at him, so he didn't do anything too suddenly. “It's an honor to meet you,” he said, meaning it.

It took her a moment, and the pharaoh, of course, gave her that; he understood that she had to take it all in, and, after all, he, in a way, had stolen her daughter's heart...and, through magic, was the father of her grandson. But, at last, she stood up, seeming a little more confident, and she smiled at him, “You're quite an impressive young man,” she said, and it was soft; it was the voice of a mother, and though he was a king, he didn't feel that she was talking down to him; he did feel youthful, for he could see the wisdom in her eyes, though she didn't look very old. There were only a few grays in her hair, catching the light in a few places, but the woman didn't seem old; perhaps around Larry's age, he guessed. “And you love both of them dearly...so I think that's quite enough for me,” she said at last, and she was smiling. “I've met enough idiots to know one when I see him,” she determined, “and you're not one, so, magic and all...welcome,” she finished.

He was impressed, if a little embarrassed, by her quick approval, but she did look like a woman who made no nonsense when she could avoid it. She was more open and fierce than her daughter, but he could see the similarities well enough, and with (Name)'s growing confidence, he could see how they were similar. But he loved (Name) with all his heart, every piece of her, and he knew he had this woman to thank; she'd raised (Name) well. “Thank you,” he said, and he was smiling. He offered his arms for Evan again, and the little boy leaped right in to them, earning a laugh from the two women, but now, Ahkmenrah walked them through the museum himself, carrying his son.

The little boy was looking around, though he'd seen it all before, but he seemed, more than anything, to be relishing the pharaoh's grip on him; he'd never had a father figure, and though Ahkmenrah had carried him before, it was different, to know it was his dad.

They introduced many of the figures to (Name)'s mother, and they all met her gladly; they knew this was important to Ahkmenrah, and everyone, of course, was delighted to see Evan again.

The child was quick to fall asleep, however; he'd hardly slept from his excitement the night before, and he'd been awake all day, waiting to see his father, and he fell asleep in the pharaoh's arms after only a little while; he'd talked to the king for some time, but was soon to be found rubbing his eyes, resisting sleep; he passed out almost too easily, and (Name) chuckled, “You always manage to knock him out,” she said, smiling.

He allowed her to carefully remove his beads, managing not to disturb Evan, but the pharaoh hadn't let go of the little boy that night; indeed, Evan hadn't wanted him to even think of it. “Well, I think, perhaps, his excitement for tonight might have helped,” he teased.

“It might have,” she agreed, but she helped him on to a bench, tugging Evan's little legs so that the pharaoh could cradle the little boy on his lap.

“I have something I would like to show you,” he said softly, speaking quietly above Evan's head; he knew the boy slept like a rock, but he didn't want to wake him, anyway.

Before she could speak, her mother approached, offering her arms, “Why don't you let me take him? You two can have some time,” she offered.

Ahkmenrah hesitated for a moment, but he knew that Evan would sleep through it all...and he knew the little boy would be back another night, and he could properly spend time with his son. He nodded, then, and he stood, his arms cradling the little one close; he allowed her mother to sit, and he laid the little boy across her lap, gentle, but he never stirred; he was out. “Thank you,” he said softly, truly grateful.

She only nodded to the two, and the pharaoh drew (Name) in to his arms, kissing her forehead, and smiled at her. “Would you let me carry you with your eyes closed?”

She was surprised, but she laughed, nodding, “Yes,” she said softly. “Thank you for asking.”

He nodded, smiling, and he leaned down, scooping her in to his arms swiftly; she let out a tiny squeak, but wrapped her arms around his neck, and he laughed when she squeezed her eyes shut, as he'd asked. “No peeking,” he teased.

She grinned at him, but she trusted him as he carried her away; he was immensely strong, and she wasn't as surprised as the first time he'd lifted her. But she kept her eyes shut, despite the urge to see where they were going, and at last, she felt him stop, and put her, very gently, on her feet. Every movement was careful, so that he wouldn't startle her in to opening her eyes, but at last, she was standing, and she had her eyes covered with her hands; she knew it must have been close, and she didn't want to accidentally see before he was ready. She could hear a strange noise, like quiet tinkling, or the sound she imagined a shimmer would make; it was soft, but it intrigued her.

At last, he reached up and took her wrists in to his hands gently, “Our new exhibit...and I daresay the most beautiful one,” he murmured, tugging her hands away.

It was...stars. Constellations, the solar system, floating around them; she saw shapes of mythical beings speaking to each other; that was the shimmering sound. It was the most...stunning thing she'd ever seen; it was like space was alive around her, and she could touch the stars; tiny spots of light that felt warm near her skin.

Ahkmenrah watched her take it all in; he watched her turn in a circle—he'd put her in the center—to look at everything; she looked full of wonder and her eyes were wide.

She looked beautiful, with the starlight glowing on her skin, surrounded by the night sky, and he couldn't help but take her in to his arms, and he kissed her longingly; she gladly gave herself in to his lips, her arms slipping around his neck, glad his beads were gone; his skin was soft and felt good beneath her hands, and though he was tall and she had to stretch a little, the kiss was exquisite; it was longing and love and he took his time with her, clutching her close, only breaking apart when he was breathless. But he only smiled at her, and he tilted her head up, “My little Queen of Stars,” he said, and the ringing grew a little louder; she felt warmth close in and she realized, suddenly, that she was surrounded by stars, all pressing in close. He unveiled a full mirror he'd asked Larry to bring in for him, and she was surprised by what she saw.

The loose stars, of all sizes, had gathered to her; many formed an elaborate tiara, pure starlight, and the others clustered in to a glistening gown of blue and white light; it covered what she'd already been wearing, and even when she shifted, the stars followed her movement. She couldn't fathom how he'd trained them to do that; he must have begged for them all to gather to her. But it was a stunning image; she was clothed and crowned in starlight, and the glow was somehow soft; she expected it to be blinding, with all the light together, but instead, it was...beautiful.

She was beautiful.

And suddenly, she realized that she suited the name he'd given her; Queen of Stars, and it left her more awed than ever. Had he done this for her? Truly?

She turned to him, wishing to speak, but couldn't find words; instead, she reached for him, and when she drew him close, the little stars darted out of the way; her crown remained, but the gown was gone as she kissed him, his arms gathering her close, and hers around his neck, finding it far easier to convey her awe and thanks this way than with words. He laughed as they parted, smiling at her, “Do you like it?”

She blushed, but she kissed him again, a soft, lingering one, smiling, “Of course,” she breathed. “How...?”

“They are like us...living,” he said softly, and there was another tinkling sound; the little stars had gathered around her, nestling on her hair like tiny diamonds. “I merely asked if they would,” he explained. “They seem quite taken with you,” he teased.

She laughed, and the little stars burst in to flight; the only ones that remained formed her crown, still, and she was left smiling, “And they're okay with you giving me that name?”

“I daresay they agree, as they still did as I asked,” he said, but he was grinning at her. She was amazing, and beautiful, and he would have gladly given her a crown of starlight for real, if he could; he would do anything for her, for their son. Still, he smiled at her, and he kissed her again, slowly, softly, lingering against her lips, and her little body fit perfectly against him. “I know I cannot give you a proper crown, as I might like...but I thought this would do, for now,” he said softly, and she smiled at him, unable to help it.

“Love, you know, I know you're a pharaoh and king of Egypt...but to tell you the truth, it doesn't matter to me,” she said softly. “What matters is how you feel about me, and about Evan,” she offered, and she kissed him briefly. “That is of far more value than any crown or material thing. Your love for us is all I need,” she soothed. “Though I admit this is absolutely stunning,” she added, and he heard the truth of it in her voice.

He thought about this, and a smile spread across his lips slowly, “You are stunning,” he offered, first, but then, he kissed her again; this was time stolen, he knew, for they should have taken Evan to the hotel to rest, but her mother had given them this special chance. But he reached up, then, and he removed his crown, placing it gently on a table nearby, and then he drew her back in to his arms. “I thank you,” he said softly, “for regarding me so highly.” It was truly a compliment to one who had ever been judged as a king and a prince. He was not thought of as an ordinary person, but as regal and held to a higher standard. But she loved him simply for him; not for his title, or his appearance, but for who he was, and, indeed, for his love for her and their little boy. “And I think, tonight, I am not a king. I'm only your husband,” he decided.

She blushed, delighted, and she drew him close, kissing him sweetly. “Now, that...I can appreciate,” she offered, smiling.

He took her hand, then, and they spent a long time merely strolling through the new exhibit; it had been completed only recently, and he told her that the inhabitants had been practicing for the grand opening of this part of the museum. There was to be an immense party, and he admitted to her that he was nervous; the inhabitants were doing well, and all their practice for the ceremony and display that night were going well, but, after all, it was, Larry had pressed, very important. They took the time to talk and catch up, though they had spoken every night for the past few months, and he kept an arm around her, surprised, yet delighted, to see that the little stars that had formed her crown had not left her, even after he had removed his own.

Indeed, she looked like a queen, even without it, to him; she was precious to him as only Evan could rival, and at times, his heart ached for how much he loved them both.

He found himself unable to help it as he drew her in to his arms, kissing her again, breathing the thoughts he had to admit had been with him all the night; that she was more beautiful than anything in all the universe. She was caught up by his kiss and she would confess that she had wanted to spend what time she could in his arms, when she did not have to worry for Evan, when she had this precious, stolen time alone with him. He would want to spend his time with Evan, too, but while they had the chance...she had longed for him to hold her again; it comforted her as nothing else in all the world had.

His kiss was slow and deliberate, and she gave in to him gladly; this man caused her no fear or discomfort, no matter what he had done; even when she had first met him, she had not felt uncomfortable with the king. Now it was an instinct, a reflex, as she leaned in to him, kissing him back, and even the kisses they'd shared in heightened emotion had not made her recall foul memories.

When his teeth softly tugged her lip, not too hard, her body shifted closer to his, and she let out a quiet moan as the feeling tingled through her, and she had to admit that he made her feel things she had feared she never would. Her fingers tangled in his short hair, and her tongue softly touched his lip, earning her own little noise; a quiet gasp. He knew all too well that she could evoke the want for more than just kisses in him, and the pharaoh had tried not to acknowledge that fact; it wasn't...they _shouldn't,_ and couldn't, when Evan had been with them.

But the kiss was going to his head and his want to keep her close took over, he heard her gasp when he pressed her against the nearest wall, but she still didn't pull from him. He had not once discomforted her and she knew, even if he did, it wouldn't be intentional; once she let him know, he wouldn't do it again. So she trusted him, letting herself be trapped by the weight of his body and the pleasure of his kiss, and she found herself fiercely warm with the press of his skin and the feelings he evoked.

He kissed her until she was breathless, and then, his lips traveled her jaw, ducking beneath and softly biting the sensitive skin there; she gasped and swore quietly, her hips flexing in to him. He whispered things to her, and though he had given her a few, brief lessons in his own language, she couldn't understand him, but she knew what it _sounded_ like. And when his teeth found another sensitive spot she squirmed again, gasping his name, her hands clutching him closer; she never let him think she wanted him to stop.

His lips were on hers again, and his fingers tangled in her hair, drawing her in to a kiss that stole her breath; her lips were tingling and she wanted more. She'd never _felt_ like this, she'd never _wanted_ until she'd met him, and the feeling was clouding her head. One of her arms slipped down to his waist and pressed in to his back, drawing him closer, and she didn't mind that she was trapped by his strength and breathless from kisses. He gave her a soft groan and she saw his eyes were wide and he looked like he wanted her, too; he gave in to the gentle pressure on his back and his hips pressed closer to hers, but it earned a hiss.

“Your belt,” she gasped; it was pressing in to her stomach and it was unforgiving; it, too, was made of metals and jewels, and she had a feeling, as her senses came back with the slight pain, that the decoration hanging from it was the only thing that had kept her from feeling much, much more of him. He was all strong muscle and he felt _so good_ and if his belt hadn't been so rough, she might not have uttered more than his name for the rest of the night.

For the first time, they both began to come to their senses, and she blushed darkly; she realized all the stars had gone to the far side of the room, even her crown. She could recognize, now, that his hand had nudged the edge of her shirt up so that he could feel the warmth of her skin, but the pressure of him against her had lifted it high enough that his belt had caught her attention; it was probably for the best. She shook her head gently, but he was the one to speak, “I think, perhaps, we should get back to Evan.”

She nodded, feeling the flush on her face, and her lips were still sensitive and swollen from kisses, but they gathered his crown and headed back to their son, at last, knowing that it was...well, they knew they should, certainly, not have slipped so far. As they reached the doors, she realized he hadn't put his crown back on, and she smiled at him, “I think you must be a king again, love,” she said softly, and she offered her hands for the piece.

He seemed surprised, but imagined that her grip in his hair had probably done quite a lot. So, offering her his crown, though he could do it himself, he bent his head; she gently smoothed his hair a bit, and then, carefully, she replaced his crown.

Together, they made it back, and found that Evan was still asleep; the only change was that he'd laid out on the bench and was using (Name)'s mother as a pillow. The woman was sitting, talking to Larry, Teddy, and Sacagawea, and the two miniatures were watching videos on the computer; they were keeping it quiet, but the little cowboy had a loud laugh, sometimes.

Each of them recognized the signs that the two might have been gone alone a touch too long, but they said nothing, in the end; Larry smiled at (Name), “Did he get to show you the new exhibit?”

“It's beautiful,” she said in a rush, grinning, appreciative that no one mentioned the obvious; though they hadn't done anything, truly, she could still feel the ache of want. “Did he tell you what he was doing?”

It seemed that the pharaoh had, indeed, for even Jed and Octavius joined with each of the exhibits, and, surprising them both, Larry, too, bowed to the two. “Queen of the museum, since we can't quite crown you queen of Egypt,” Larry said, grinning at her; the pharaoh had, indeed, told Larry what he wanted to do. The older man, and Teddy, too, were father figures for the young king, and he had admitted to everyone that he and (Name) were married in the terms of his people; merely an agreement, but she was his queen.

She flushed red in to her ears, and they both heard her mother chuckling from her bench. “Ahk,” (Name) said, and there was some warning in her voice, but she was pleased, too, that they knew the truth.

He didn't heed it, and, instead, he leaned in to softly kiss her temple, “Only a formality, little queen. You needn't worry,” he teased her, but he was grinning.

She shook her head, still a little flustered, but at last, she had to give in, and she kissed his cheek in return. “I'll not be responsible for any but Evan, you should know,” she teased. “And you, though you seem to keep yourself in line rather well,” she said, and it made the pharaoh burst out laughing.

He drew her fully in to his arms reflexively, and he held her tightly; she felt his chest shaking as he muffled his laughter, trying not to wake Evan, and it made her grin at him; his laughter was precious to her. “Well, I suppose my wife should have something to do...I could hang from the balcony if you'd prefer to tell me to keep my senses,” he teased.

It was her turn to laugh, and she shook her head, muffling it in his shoulder. “Nonsense! Pure nonsense!” she returned, sounding indignant, but it was filled with the mirth of laughter, and she nuzzled his shoulder gently, “I think I prefer you as you are, love,” she said at last, once she had calmed down. “I have my fill telling Evan not to bounce off the walls as it is,” she teased.

He clutched her close, but pressed a kiss to the top of her head, “You do a fine job of that,” he soothed, but he had turned his eyes to the little one; he was still asleep, and Ahkmenrah knew he must let them go home for the night. He gave a gentle sigh, squeezing her, “Shall we get you three home?”

She sighed, too, but she nodded. “Yes...Evan needs to rest, and I admit I'm a bit tired, too,” she murmured.

Larry had already gotten the jacket (Name) had bought for Ahkmenrah; when he'd seen the little one, knocked out, he'd known it wouldn't be far too long. The pharaoh, as always, removed his robe, and then his crown, too; he put them on the desk, where his beads were waiting, and he pulled the jacket on, if only for appearance's sake; his garb was anything but standard, and though the bottom half of him still looked odd, at least it wasn't quite as...outlandish as his crown and beads. He reached, then, for Evan, and (Name)'s mother gently lifted the tiny figure's head so that his father could gather him in to his arms; (Name) had told her that Ahkmenrah always carried him back.

The little one only stirred enough to see what had happened, murmured “Daddy,” and had instantly dropped off once more. Larry allowed them to leave and reminded the pharaoh that he needed to get back in enough time, though, now, he had a way to contact (Name) and Ahkmenrah both, if it was needed. But they knew they were running on borrowed time, and, indeed, knew that that would be the case for all their time; Ahkmenrah should have been a mummy, but the tablet gave him life.

He lingered in the room, though (Name) had gotten the same hotel as the last time; he still remembered the path well. Her mother slipped in to the bathroom to change and take care of her nightly routine, and (Name) and the pharaoh sat down across from Evan's bed; the child would be sharing with his mother, but for now, they merely watched him sleep. To Ahkmenrah, he felt like Evan had grown too much already; he was taller and he had known the child was becoming smarter and smarter. “He's perfect,” he suddenly whispered, his hand squeezing (Name)'s; he'd automatically taken it once they were sitting together, his arm around her.

She grinned, but she leaned in to the pharaoh, sighing; she truly was tired, but she loved the time she could have with him. She knew this was rare; the pharaoh should have time with his son, too, but...well, this was all they could have, for now. “Considering his father, and the fact that my mother has helped...it's no surprise,” she said, smiling.

“I think his mother may have some hand in all this, too,” he reminded gently, bending his head to softly press his lips against her temple.

“She did,” (Name)'s mother said, plopping on to the bed on (Name)'s other side. “Though she gives me all the credit because of her work.”

Both started; they'd been so absorbed in each other and their son that they hadn't noticed the woman coming from the bathroom. Still, Ahkmenrah smiled at that, “You both have raised him well,” he said admiringly.

“Well, we're both lucky you came along,” (Name)'s mother said, voicing what her daughter had said very often; it was the truth. They were very, very lucky the pharaoh and his magic had been there.

His arm and his hand tightened on (Name), “I'm the lucky one,” he said softly.

“Well, as her mother, I'd have to agree,” the woman said, grinning.

“Mom!”

The older woman laughed at the indignant exclamation, but she patted (Name)'s back, somehow, around the pharaoh's grip. “I'm your mother. I'm supposed to think any man's lucky to have you, even a king,” she said simply.

(Name) blushed, but the pharaoh squeezed her gently, and he was smiling. (Name)'s mother seemed perfect. It was exactly what he imagined her mother to be, and his nervousness had disappeared through the night; he was glad to have met her. Still, he tugged (Name) in to standing, “I should return,” he said softly. “You need sleep.”

She gave a heavy sigh, and pressed herself closer to him. She wished he could stay. Indeed, she wished he could stay with them forever...but even with a stolen night, it wasn't enough. But she knew she couldn't say that; it would be too hard, and they both already wanted it enough, so she spoke, “I suppose,” she murmured at last, tugging him toward the door reluctantly.

Once there, he wrapped her back in his arms, leaning in to softly kiss her, knowing her sadness; it was his own. “Tomorrow night is the opening of the planetarium,” he murmured, but the smile he was giving was fragile. “I will not be able to see you until late, I fear, if you could even come,” he admitted.

Her heart ached at the thought, and she hesitated, looking back at the room. “I'll...tell Evan.”

“I'll keep Evan,” her mother said softly. “You should see him, anyway,” she offered.

Ahkmenrah was once again left feeling overwhelmed with thanks for the older woman, and he might have lifted her in a hug if he hadn't been clinging to (Name) so tightly. “Would you come tomorrow night? I would love to see you,” he breathed, and she could hear the hope and want in his voice.

“Of course, love,” she agreed, noting to thank her mother, but Ahkmenrah was already doing that; he left her long enough to hug the older woman very tightly indeed, repeating his thanks many times, seeming too delighted to know what to do with himself. When he returned to her, she giggled quietly, but she drew him in to her arms, and she kissed him. “Tomorrow night,” she promised.

“Tomorrow night,” he agreed, and she heard the longing in his voice. Still, he leaned in, and he could not help kissing her once more, despite her mother in the room; he had few chances for this, and he lingered against her lips, giving a soft sigh when he knew he must leave; he could feel her tiredness, somehow, and he couldn't bear to keep her awake, even as much as he wanted to see her.

“I love you, Ahk,” she whispered, kissing him again, but she didn't linger; it would be too hard.

The grin that formed on his face dispelled some of the ache in his chest, and he returned her small, soft kiss, “I love you too, little Queen of Stars,” he murmured.

She watched him until he was in the elevator, as always, and waited for his call before she climbed in to bed, beyond exhaustion.

Ahkmenrah found himself wandering to his tomb, even though he had time left, feeling the ache in his heart. He could never have enough time with them. He knew his father had created the tablet, and knowing what it did, he wondered, now, if he had created it specifically for this; to spend time with his family. He had already bid the other exhibits a good night, and he found himself merely staring at the tablet, sitting on his tomb, feeling the longing in his chest like a hole torn there.

What he did not see, as his jackals wrapped him up and he climbed in, was a dark green stain climbing up the corner of his tablet on the wall, and though he suddenly felt dizzy and sick, he merely thought it was dawn's approach.

**_ End Chapter _ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, a little more action in this one, but not too heavy.
> 
> I also realize that, in reality, the planetarium was actually a renovation, and existed long before the events of the third movie, but I'm going, canonically, with the movies alone. As we didn't see it in the movies, until the third, I took the liberty of calling it "new" for the sake of this chapter—I felt it would be romantic and something distinctly Ahk-like to want to show his queen how he sees her.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed the chapter!
> 
> As always, comments, questions, and suggestions are all gladly and gratefully accepted. Thank you for your continued support!


	9. Chapter Nine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  ** _DISCLAIMER:_** I do **NOT** own _Night at the Museum_ , or any of its contents, characters, actors, ideas...or anything at all related to it. I never have, and I never will. This is written for fun. I’m dirt poor, so sorry. This is for my entertainment and for those who read this.
> 
> I also don't own anything remotely recognizable in the story; music, devices, brand names or anything; if you recognize it, I don't own it. I make nothing off of anything. None of my works provide me a profit. Basically, **_I own absolutely nothing._** Point blank.
> 
> Thank you all for your continued support! The comments, kudos, and bookmarks make my day. You're all amazing. Thank you!
> 
> I'm so sorry I'm a bit late updating! I tend to update first thing in the morning (or, as I'm an owl, last thing at night...), and I just sort of...crashed, so I apologize.
> 
> That said, I'm still posting on the day I intended, so, here we are: the new chapter.
> 
> Enjoy!

**_ Chapter Nine _ **

He had certainly seen it when he awoke, and he felt dizzy as he saw it climb just a little higher; he dared not touch it.

But time was flying and by the time he had come out—he did not realize his dizzy spell was very, very severe and lasted far longer than it should have—the others were preparing for the show that night, and Larry was in a hustle. The night guard hurriedly followed him at his urging, and what Larry saw worried him...but Ahkmenrah did not let on how much it had affected him moments before. The pharaoh feared to frighten Larry more than his current fluster, for all his work, but a part of him wondered if he should. But what could they do? The show would go on, regardless of what was happening.

“Have you ever seen it like this before?” It was Larry's muted voice; the pharaoh's hall was great and echoing, and he didn't want to alarm the others.

“Ahk?” It was a soft, sweet voice, and Ahkmenrah turned at it instantly; he knew it before even a second had passed—it was (Name).

Whatever fears he might have had about the tablet fell short and sudden; another, utterly different kind of nervousness grew in him and he found it hard to swallow. The sight of her was enough to steal his breath, and it certainly knocked the sense from his head. His wife was utterly beautiful no matter the circumstances, but she looked...she was... “You look like a goddess,” he managed.

She wore a long, white dress and heels, and she had her hair styled carefully. She wore golden jewelry, and what stood out to him were the braces on her arms; below her shoulders, and around her wrists; they reminded him of what he would have had her wear at his side. The dress fit her perfectly and flattered every movement, and he saw that she was blushing under his gaze; he had to go to her, and he wrapped her in his arms, kissing her a little too fiercely, but suddenly, his fears had vanished in the place of astonishment and love. “You are...beyond words,” he managed, holding her hands, now, aware Larry's eyes on them.

She blushed, but she was smiling, “Mom had promised she would keep Evan for one night, for us...I thought, perhaps, I might actually look the part for one night,” she admitted shyly. “I just didn't expect it to be this soon,” she added, sheepish.

“You're perfect,” he whispered, sensing her nervousness and doubt, and he smiled at her. “Thank you for coming,” he murmured, squeezing her hands. “Seeing you has eased all my fears,” he admitted.

She wondered at the fact that such a regal pharaoh might be nervous, but she smiled at him. “What on earth would a pharaoh fear?” It was softly teasing, but he heard the worried tone under it; she knew he was nervous, but something...well, something _felt_ wrong.

He took her hand, then, and she felt it tremble; something had happened. He tugged her gently with him, back to Larry's side, and stood between the two, carefully gesturing to the tablet on the wall. He turned back to Larry, “Never. This corrosion has never happened before. It's always been exactly the same,” he said, and Larry didn't miss the worry, this time; he didn't have to be holding the pharaoh's hand to see the nervousness creeping through the Egyptian's carefully-guarded face. He heard the urgency in his tone.

Still, though Larry could sense the worry, he couldn't take it too heavily—they had so much to do, and so little time, he couldn't have another thing weighing on his mind. “I wonder what's up with it,” he said, admitting his concern, but he knew that he would have to look in to it soon; he was ignoring an awful feeling in the pit of his stomach.

“I have no idea,” Ahkmenrah breathed, his voice filled with emotion; his mask was slipping and his fear was showing and (Name) gripped his hand tighter, clutching him. “And to be honest...my father knew the secrets of the tablet better than I did,” he admitted, and (Name) heard something in his voice she had never identified before; exhaustion. “Unfortunately, he swore he'd never reveal them,” he added, sounding horribly disappointed, and his voice was resigned when he finished, hopelessly, “He never did.”

But now he gasped, and she saw him, suddenly faint, and heard him groan...but it wasn't _just_ a groan, it was like the breath seeping out of him with finality; not breathing, but an aching groan that was deep in his chest. He fell lax, and (Name) and Larry both grabbed him; the former was on the verge of panic and, though Larry let go of him with respect, the woman saw what the guard didn't; his expression going blank and his eyes wide, and it felt like she couldn't swallow, and her heart hit against her chest so hard her head spun. She clung to him, even after he seemed better, her heart beating hard and fast against her chest. They saw, suddenly, that the green stain had crept higher along the tablet and it was sure to be that it was what had affected the pharaoh.

“You okay?” Larry, at least, sounded more concerned now.

But Ahkmenrah brushed it off, “Yes,” he said, sounding a little startled, but still cognitive, “Yes. I'm fine,” he affirmed.

She knew he was lying.

Larry had to accept the statement, though, and the pharaoh wanted him to; they had to go on with the show that night. He told the Egyptian to take it easy, and he indicated that they had to go; they had to work. Though he lingered, looking at the tablet, he finally turned to (Name), and he bent his head, kissing her softly, when she wouldn't set him free. “I promise,” he said, slowly and distinctly, “I'm fine.”

“You're a poor liar and you look like a mouse cornered by a cat,” she returned, fiercely.

He froze, and he knew he couldn't lie to her. But he knew he must do his duty. “(Name), I must go with the others...I promise to come back and speak with you. Will you trust me to do that?”

She clung to him, and he saw the tears gathering in the corners of her eyes, “Swear you're going to come right back when it's done,” she begged.

He bent his head again, and he kissed her softly, “I promise,” he said, meeting her eyes.

She hesitated, but reluctantly, she backed away from him, letting him go with care, and she thought for several moments, before she reached up to her throat. She had a golden ribbon fastened about her neck like a choker, and she released its clasp carefully, and then she took his arm; she nudged his robe up and, with his build, and her small stature, the little ribbon fit around his arm tightly enough not to slip; she clasped it and allowed the sleeve of his robe to fall back in to place neatly. “Bring that back, or I hunt you down for it,” she threatened, but he heard the fear in her voice.

He reached for the ribbon beneath his sleeve; it was warm from her skin and it smelled like her, he'd noted, as she'd brought it closer. It was silky and soft and he took a moment, just tracing it around his arm, but he smiled at her, and he bent to kiss her once more. “I will,” he promised.

She followed him to the exit of his exhibit, but she knew she could go no further; she'd been let in with the promise that she would stay out of sight, considering the event, and she watched him leave, fear bubbling in her stomach.

She decided, immediately, that she was going to inspect every inch of his exhibit for clues.

In the end, though she didn't hear the ruckus, (Name) knew something was wrong; she had sensed it in her bones, and turned to see the cursed stain rising higher and higher, and in desperation, she had gone to the tablet herself; she gripped it, tears welling in her eyes, pleading with the inanimate object not to do what she feared it was. But her pleas went unanswered, it seemed, for not too long after, Larry and Ahkmenrah had returned to the exhibit, and Larry seemed to be keeping closer to the pharaoh than normal. Had he fainted again? Her heart twisted in her chest.

But what truly made her chest ache was the look of exhaustion on her husband's face; he never truly showed outward signs of exhaustion. He was ever young, and he seemed to be alive and energetic with the magic of the tablet. But now, he looked older; worn, and like he had not slept in too many nights.

Her heart ached so fiercely she had to press her hand to it, looking at the two, wide-eyed. “Something happened,” she stated; there was not a single guess in her voice.

The two explained, haltingly, that the night had been beyond ruined; the exhibits had gone utterly mad and damage was done and Larry admitted that he'd scolded the entire crowd...aside from Ahkmenrah. He'd found the pharaoh collapsed in a corner, seeming utterly unaware of his surroundings, and had helped the Egyptian to a safe place until he could collect him; the king had done nothing wrong, and, Larry suspected, had nearly passed out.

Larry's eyes wandered to the tablet; the green was higher than before and he knew, then, that he must do something about it. He promised to spend the next day doing research, and (Name) begged to help; she desperately wanted to assure that the pharaoh, her husband, her _love_ was alright, when she could see so clearly that he wasn't; the creeping green climbing the tablet made her sick to her stomach, especially when the two men explained what had happened that night.

“Larry, I beg you, let me help,” she asked, and they saw her eyes fill with tears; she was scared, more scared than she had been since she had found out she was pregnant. “Please, I can't...I can't,” she said, shaking, and Ahkmenrah wrapped her tightly in his arms. “Let me help, I'll do anything,” she insisted.

Despite the look the pharaoh gave him, Larry knew he could use the help. And Larry knew the look in her eyes, the fierceness in her; she would do anything for Ahkmenrah...and for her son. After all, the child had just found out that Ahkmenrah was his father; she wouldn't want the little one to both gain and lose the Egyptian all in a moment, and it would seem it, to the little one.

“Will your mother look after Evan for the day?”

“She will when I explain tonight,” she said quickly, gently thumping the pharaoh on the shoulder when he began to protest, “And you, shush. You can't help during the day and I _won't_ watch this happen and not try to help.”

The pharaoh was both stunned and impressed by her strength, and he knew he couldn't persuade her not to try. So, at last, he nodded, and Larry spoke again, “Meet me here tomorrow.”

The two arranged the meeting, and Larry admitted he had to make her leave; he was going to lock everything up, considering the night's events, and he promised the pharaoh he would take her home.

She lingered, and Larry gave them a moment, knowing what must have been going through their heads; (Name)'s fear had been so clear that he knew he couldn't take her away when she was so worried.

She clung to him, clutching his hands in hers, “You were in pain,” she breathed, confronting him about his earlier behavior; he'd evaded her with the excuse of the night's event.

He knew, when he met her eyes, that he couldn't lie to her; she was anxious and frightened and she needed the truth. So, softly, he spoke; he didn't want to tell Larry, he didn't want to frighten the guard, though, in truth, he didn't want to tell (Name), either. She was so scared already. “I felt...I felt as though I was dying again,” he admitted in a whisper.

Tears rolled down her cheeks the moment he said it, and she gasped, “Without...without the tablet, you can't...and if it's like this, then you must be...” It had already crossed her mind, the moment she saw him faint, saw the look in his eyes. It scared her, and her heart ached so fiercely that she was sure it would rip from her chest. “I can't lose you,” she said desperately.

He knew that Evan's intelligence didn't come from only himself, and he gathered her close, wrapping her in his arms tightly, “You and Larry will find something tomorrow. Everything will be fine,” he promised, trying to comfort her, though he, too, was scared. He would admit it to himself, but he knew he must be brave for her; she was so frightened he feared it would break his heart. Still, he clutched her closer, keeping her little body sheltered in his own, “And you'll have me for all time,” he swore in a whisper in her ear.

She buried her face in his neck, trembling softly. He was hiding it, but she knew he had to be scared. He had to be as terrified as she was; he had to be out of his mind with terror, to feel as though he was dying again. She clutched him, tears brimming in her eyes, but she knew she shouldn't cry; he was so strong, and she could not imagine being so tough in the face of this. Her arms tightened on him, and she looked up at him, the tears catching on her lashes, “You can't...” She took a breath. “You can't leave. You can't leave _Evan,_ ” she said, fierce. She was determined to have a reason, to give him a reason to fight, to be strong, and she needed it, too.

He kissed her softly then, squeezing her in his arms. “Everything is going to be fine,” he promised again. “And I would never leave Evan,” he swore, feeling his heart twist in his chest at the mere thought of it; the child had just discovered that Ahkmenrah was his father. He wouldn't leave him, not like this. “Nor will I leave you,” he added, squeezing her again, kissing her softly once more.

He saw the tears fall again, and she gave a little, trembling gasp, a broken smile on her face. “You'd better not,” she threatened, but he knew how afraid she was. He knew how afraid he was, too. Still, she kissed him in return, capturing his lips fiercely, not letting him go until they were both breathless. “I love you,” she breathed, still clutching him; the words were against his lips.

He smiled at her, and it was real, for the strength of her words. “I love you too, my little queen,” he said, kissing her once more. “And I promise, all will be well.” He paused suddenly, and he smiled at her, “I did bring your necklace back,” he reminded gently.

“Keep it, love,” she said, trying to keep her voice from breaking. “I don't think anyone's going to check your sarcophagus tomorrow...so when you wake up, you'll have it with you,” she added, smiling, but her attempt at teasing was destroyed by the tears welling in her eyes. “You'll have me with you,” she explained.

He liked the idea; though he'd felt the awful, sickening sensation when all the exhibits had been losing control, something had drawn his attention to the tight band around his arm. It had been warm from her skin when she'd clasped it around him, and his mind had called to that sensation, a reminder of her soothing warmth; it had been part of what kept him from panic—Larry had found him, nearly senseless, in the floor, but his hand had been tucked beneath his sleeve. He had found comfort in stroking the silky ribbon. “I thank you, my love,” he offered, his voice gentle. “And I promise, when you and Larry find the solution, I shall return it to you.”

She gave a reluctant nod, but at last, she knew they must part. She liked the idea; that he wouldn't need it, that he would be okay, but her heart was heavy and her head was pounding. Her emotions were relentless and she could feel her exhaustion, but she forced herself to believe him, despite her fear. She gave him one more kiss, and slowly slipped out of his arms, unable to keep from looking back even when Larry offered her his arm; he had promised to take her home. She barely managed to swallow her sob, but it escaped when the elevator doors closed, and Larry put his hand on her shoulder, squeezing softly. “We're going to take care of it,” he assured.

She had to believe it, because she had no other option, and she allowed him to take her home; inside, when her mother saw her, asking what was wrong, she broke in to sobs that she barely muffled in the older woman's shoulder, gasping out an explanation, glad that her son slept so deeply; her mother had worn him out, somehow.

(Name), too, was worn out; she cried herself to sleep and every dream was a foul nightmare; she barely rested, feeling sick and dizzy by morning.

When Evan asked what was wrong, her mother told him that Ahkmenrah was sick and that (Name) had to go and take care of him, and that Evan shouldn't be near him; it was very dangerous. Though not true, it was a lie that had to be made, and (Name) slipped away from the hotel in utter misery.

When she met Larry, he paled. “You didn't sleep,” he stated; there was not an ounce of a question in those three words.

“It would have been better if I hadn't,” she corrected, clutching herself.

She looked small and vulnerable, and so unlike the confident young mother that he knew that he nearly hugged her himself, but he feared she might break apart if he gave her reason, so he made himself resist. “Nightmares?”

“Every single one,” she admitted, and they began to climb the steps to the museum; they were heading toward the archive records to look up information on the tablet. “I've had some strange dreams, since I first met him...distantly familiar figures or endless desert...I mean, nothing solid, but I've never dreamed like that before,” she muttered. “It's like I'm dreaming of Egypt,” she added, and he saw her clutch her arms tighter around herself, “But last night...last night, I couldn't wake from my nightmares. I didn't understand them and I saw figures...figures I've never seen, and they were speaking in a language I don't understand, and...and I think...I think I saw...I think I saw someone kill him,” she admitted, shaking. “It must have been his brother...I don't know,” she said. “But I saw it every other dream,” her voice squeaked, but it was so weak he had to strain to hear her. “And the others...the others, I don't know...I don't know that I'll ever sleep again,” she breathed.

He was disturbed by that idea, by the thought that sleep wasn't rest, and he wondered how she was functioning; she looked as though she hadn't slept in weeks, not a single night, and she was hunched and drawn in to herself, and a thought slipped in to his mind; she had seen the pharaoh die. She had watched him be murdered. He couldn't imagine...despite their divorce, his relationship with Erica was still good. They were friends. To never see her again...to think of something happening to her...his heart ached. He knew now why she looked queasy and lost. He wondered, now, if she might feel as though her heart was broken, or even ripped from her chest.

They had to fix this.

It was not just the exhibits or the museum at risk...it was not only himself that would feel lost. Evan would lose a father, and (Name) would lose the man she loved...the man she deemed had saved her life.

He was more determined than ever to find out what was wrong and fix it.

They made it inside and Larry managed, with some effort, to get the grumpy archives woman to tell him what he wanted to know, and to get her to let him bring (Name)—he'd made up a quick story, which was something he was very, very good at, considering his background. They found the section they needed and, determined, set to reading everything in it.

Nothing.

They found nothing, and (Name) was on the verge of tears, grasping desperately at straws as they traded theories in the dusty papers around them. Larry couldn't quite let go of a photo he'd found, wishing he knew where the people in it were right then; they were the ones that discovered the tablet in the first place, and the pharaoh with it. If anyone knew more than was recorded...if anyone knew anything, it would be the people that found it, wouldn't it? Or Ahkmenrah's father. He wondered if they could find where he was being displayed and go there; surely the Tablet would wake him up, too, and he could tell them how to fix it...

The archives woman came back to them some time later, and she questioned Larry about why he was interested; she didn't seem to care at all about (Name), as the younger woman had nothing to do with the museum.

He explained that it was just a hobby of his, and the woman seemed to buy it. But Larry was still holding that photo, “I wish I could talk to these guys,” he said.

“Well, you can't,” the woman said bluntly, sourly. “'Cause they're dead.”

Larry took that in stride—perhaps because he was so accustomed to the insanity of the museum itself—and kept staring at the photo. “But, uh, look at that one.” He pointed to one of the figures in the image; it looked like a little boy, not even old enough to have been out of school. Younger than his own son, even. The woman reached for the photo as she put down her coffee, “Looks like a kid, huh?”

The woman took the photo and seemed to stroke it, a smile on her face. (Name) eyed her strangely, feeling exasperated. She was exhausted and her body was aching; her restless sleep had left her in dire need of rest and, worst of all, her heart felt absent. She felt like it was hiding in Ahkmenrah's tomb, bound up in his wrappings and tucked in his chest; she felt empty and cold. Somehow, the fear seemed to have stolen her warmth and her happiness, and though a part of her knew, beyond doubt, that she must be strong and take care of her son...a part of her would gladly give her very life to repair the tablet. It had given her a miracle, it had given her happiness and life, when she felt her world had ended. It had given her Evan, her dear, sweet son, and she loved him more dearly than anything in the world; though she loved Ahkmenrah, truly loved him, her son was her true heart. Her mother had always insisted that, once she was a mother, (Name) would understand; she would love her husband, but her child would be everything, the air she breathed, even on the worst days.

She did understand.

And yet...yet, she did not know what she would do if she were to lose Ahkmenrah. Evan would be devastated; to be given his father and have him stolen away within days would rip his heart to shreds, and the little boy, (Name) was sure, would be forever affected by the event.

She felt torn in two; she wanted, needed, to care for her son. She needed to be there for him. She needed to watch him grow. Yet she needed to save Ahkmenrah. She needed to save her husband, she needed to protect him.

The two were so very different, and yet irrevocably intertwined; Evan would be devastated to lose his father...and perhaps, even worse, to lose his mother.

But, in the hollow ache in her chest, she knew she would give nearly anything to keep Ahkmenrah, to give her son the father he deserved.

Her head began to swim and she felt sick. Tears brimmed in her eyes and she buried her head in her hands, doing her best to hide behind the barrier.

Larry noticed, and he reached out, putting his hand on her shoulder; he knew she needed it, and he felt her trembling in his grip. He didn't pressure her, but turned all his attention to the grumpy woman, “You didn't know him, did you?”

“C. J. Fredericks,” she said. “He worked here.”

“He worked here?” Larry sounded shocked, and his grip tightened on (Name)'s shoulder, though he didn't mean to hurt her—hope had leaped in to his chest at that news.

The woman looked at him like he was crazy, “Yeah, when he grew up,” she barked in her sour tone, as though he should've known it.

“No.”

“Yeah,” she insisted. “He was a night guard. Same as you,” she added, looking like she was waiting for the penny to drop.

“Wait a minute,” he said, catching on. “C. J.” He paused, and it began to bubble in to his mind, and his heart leaped— _he knew!_ “C. J. Fredericks...” he turned to her, his hand squeezing tighter on (Name)'s shoulder, “Cecil Fredericks?”

As the strange, grumpy woman went on to talk about her attraction to the previous night guard, (Name)'s heart began to bang against her chest. Larry knew this guy. Larry knew who they were talking about, _what_ they were talking about, and she began to feel a faint thread of hope tugging the life back in to her body. “Larry,” she breathed, and the guard turned to look at her, finding her eyes wide and pleading.

“Yeah,” he said, knowing precisely what she was thinking. They thanked the woman and left, nearly at a dead run—(Name) insisted.

They arrived at a retirement home and (Name) wondered, faintly, if the man would even still be alive...but they found him, dancing with multiple women, and he greeted Larry with a smile and a handshake. (Name) listened to them talk, listened to the old man—and then two more—deny the night guard, and the woman was on the verge of screaming at the top of her lungs; she was at a loss and didn't know what to do and she had to do something, anything, and it threatened to burst from her in the only way she could.

But Larry had his head on straight. Larry pulled out the picture, and the old man changed his tune in an instant, and (Name) followed the two men, grabbing on to Larry's jacket; she feared she would burst if she didn't have an outlet, and the grip she had on the night guard was telling enough that he didn't even think to shake her off.

They went outside, in to a greenhouse, and despite the cold, (Name) found herself numb to it; she needed information. She needed it now. The two men went back and forth, and surprisingly, the old man never said a word about her presence. He just explained what had happened; he admitted that he'd been drawn to the tablet from the moment he saw it, that it had stuck with him for endless years. And when Larry explained what was happening, he blurted out an ominous statement, “'The end will come.'”

(Name)'s hand clawed at her knee, “What?”

“The locals, they warned us,” he said, his eyes turning to her like he hadn't seen her, at first. “They begged us to leave that tomb alone.” He paused, his attention turning back to Larry, “And I thought it meant the end of the world.” He stopped again, his eyes going wide and worried, “But maybe it meant the end...”

“End of the magic?” It was Larry's voice, and (Name)'s voice came out in a sob—her chest ached so hard her hand went to it, clutching at her heart.

“We should have listened,” Cecil said, slowly. “Should have listened,” he said again, angrier. “Instead, we shipped Ahk and the tablet off to New York...” he paused again, finally looking at Larry, “and his folks to England.”

Larry stopped short, like Cecil had punched him, and then his words came out faster, “Wait, wait.” He leaned closer to the old man, “Ahkmenrah's parents are in England?”

“It was a joint expedition,” Cecil explained. “Some of the artifacts stayed in Egypt. The rest was divided up between New York and the British Museum,” he finished.

“Ahk said that his father knew the secrets of the tablet,” Larry said, hopeful. “I think I have to go talk to him,” he added, thoughtful.

“Larry,” (Name) breathed, “I have to go. I have to come with you,” she said, grabbing on to his sleeve again.

“(Name), you have to take care of Evan,” he protested. “Imagine what Ahk would think if you—”

“Ahk can deal with it,” she spat, her eyes fierce. “I'll bring Evan and my mother and if you won't take me with you, I'll just meet you there,” she said, staring at the man with the most determined expression he'd ever seen. “I'm not going to stand idly by and wait to hear if things get fixed. I won't. That magic gave me my life, it gave me _hope,_ and I would rather die than not fight to protect it,” she declared. “And I won't wait here, when it could be the last time Evan could see his father. I won't wait here when it could be the last chance I have, Larry, and you can't stop me from coming along,” she said, on her feet now, clutching his sleeve, but more fierce than ever.

Larry stared at her in awe, surprised that the shy young woman he'd first met had become so fierce, but he knew he shouldn't let her, “But Evan—”

“Is coming with me,” she hissed, tugging his sleeve.

“It'll be dangerous,” he tried again.

“You should know a mother will protect her child from anything, everything. I daresay you'll be safer with us there, for that matter,” she insisted.

“Larry, let the girl go,” Cecil injected, seeming amused. “No wonder you're divorced.”

Of course the night guard resented that statement, but he sighed. “Passport?”

“Got it. We've gone to Canada.”

“What about your mother?”

“I'll go back and talk to her.”

He sighed again, “Ahk is going to murder me...”

“He can do it after the tablet is fixed,” she said, tugging him to his feet. “Thank you, Cecil.”

The old man seemed more amused than ever, but he heard them discussing the plan; (Name) would talk to her mother and Evan and meet Larry back at the museum as soon as possible. She gave the man a quick hug, fleeing the retirement home, and took off running at top speed. Larry, too, knew it was time to go, so he thanked Cecil, too, and bid him goodbye.

He would have to convince McPhee to let him take two of his precious exhibits with him to another country...and that, he thought, was going to be very difficult. With a deep breath, he decided to go at once. He couldn't deny that they didn't have any time to spare.

When McPhee had approved the plan, he found (Name) waiting outside for him, “I have to go get my son from school,” he said slowly. “But we're leaving tonight.”

(Name) froze up, “But...but Ahk...Ahk will be locked...in a crate...in a plane,” she said, slowly.

“I know he's got claustrophobia,” he said quickly. “But I don't think we can wait.” He smiled at her, though, “We'll tell him tonight...we won't have long, since they'll be packing him up shortly after sunset, but...”

She hesitated, but nodded, “...I suppose...you're right,” she admitted, at last. She hesitated, “Evan's coming with us, and my mother. She said...just in case, she wanted to be there,” she explained.

They were walking now, “We're going to fix it,” he said quickly, trying to reassure her. “It can't be too hard to find Ahk's parents there...I mean, they probably have an Egyptian wing, and I'm sure they'd be on display there,” he said slowly.

She shivered, “Have you made flight plans?”

“No, I have to argue with my son about him coming along,” he said begrudgingly. “I can't leave him here. He threw a party last night and he's going to be in trouble until he graduates,” he grumbled.

“Teenager?”

“Senior in high school,” he confirmed.

She chuckled, “I remember those times...but, if I may,” she said slowly, “I'm also a parent...and while Evan isn't that old yet...” She paused here, but she sighed. “He's at the age where you can't control him and teenagers...well, they think they know everything,” she murmured. “I should know. So...maybe, in this case, take a deep breath, and walk through it a step at a time. Talk to him and give him a bit of space. As stubborn as teenagers are, they won't learn until they experience it themselves,” she explained.

He thought that over, “You should know, as a parent...I can't just...leave him to it,” he said, slowly.

“I didn't say to do that,” she said quickly, smiling. “You can't control him, no, but you can sit down and talk to him. May I ask what's going on?”

They crossed a street as Larry thought about it. “He doesn't want to go to college. Wants a year off,” he explained.

“That's quite common in other countries, actually,” she said quickly. “Of course, it also so happens that education is much less expensive in many other places...” She thought about that. “Do you know what he wants to do?”

“No,” he admitted. “I didn't really give him a chance to tell me.”

She thought about that for a while. “Might I suggest talking to him? Mind you, let him know you're not agreeing—you just want to know what he wants to do.” She flashed him a quick smile, “Say he wants to road trip it across the US...give him a semester off. Not a full year, but a little time and freedom,” she suggested.

He gave that a couple blocks of thought. “You know...you're right,” he said slowly. “Maybe I'll just talk to him,” he murmured thoughtfully.

“That's all you have to do, really,” she said softly. “Give him an ear.”

He nodded, but they fell in to silence, both thinking, and went to collect Larry's son; with introductions made, they went to pack bags for the two men, and then headed to the museum—they had to tell Ahkmenrah what was going on.

As sour as Nick was about the whole thing, even he seemed to care about the tablet, for he met Ahkmenrah in his tomb with the others. The tablet awoke him, and they heard his sharp breath; it was rattling and on the verge of painful, but he was climbing out moments later, and (Name) reached in to help him out carefully. He looked worried, and worn, and they saw his hand slip beneath his sleeve, rubbing the ribbon there, until he was fully free and could wrap his wife in his arms. He gathered her close and kissed her slowly, bringing tears to her eyes, “Still here, love,” he soothed.

She nodded in to his neck, but she kept her arms around him. “You...um...you're still...claustrophobic, aren't you?”

He stiffened in her grasp. “Regretfully, it seems something that has not quite faded with time,” he admitted.

“I'm sorry,” she said, and she pulled back to meet his eyes. “But...but we...might have found a solution.”

When he asked, Larry and (Name) managed to explain, a little hastily, the situation...and the fact that Ahkmenrah would have to climb back in to his sarcophagus for them to move him. The pharaoh shivered, looking, wearily, back at the tiny space he'd been freed from, “I...suppose I must,” he said slowly, “To...figure this out.”

(Name) reached beneath the sleeve of his cloak, rubbing the ribbon she'd placed there so carefully, “Focus on this. Think of Evan.”

He nodded slowly, “Yes. I shall have to be strong, if only for him.” He glanced behind her, worried, “Is he...?”

“Mom is packing us all up and getting them to the airport,” she explained. “I promised to meet them there, as soon as we could,” she said softly.

His features hardened, “It is far too dangerous for either of you,” he said swiftly, shaking her once, gently, but frightened for her safety. “A first night with the tablet in a new museum will have unknown dangers. I will not allow you to do any such thing,” he insisted.

“Unless you kill me—and the tablet would just get me back up, I imagine—you can't do one thing to stop me. I won't wait idly by while my husband works to save his life,” she declared. “I won't allow you to condemn me to pacing my hotel room, waiting for a phone call with news. The last phone call about my life was a sour one. I won't take another phone call that could rip my heart to shreds. I will give my all to fix this problem and you can't change my mind,” she insisted, more fierce than ever.

The pharaoh watched her, thinking over that, but at last, he gave a heavy sigh and leaned his forehead against hers, “I daresay that this king would be nothing without his queen...and I know well enough when my queen has made up her mind,” he said slowly. “But should it become dangerous, I expect you to run as far and as fast as you can with Evan. He is far more important,” he declared, squeezing her once. “Promise me that.”

“I will protect Evan...but I intend to protect you, too, Ahk. Evan would never forgive me if I let anything happen to you,” she said, and her smile was weak and her eyes were on the verge of tears. “So. Do you think you can...?”

“I shall think of both of you,” he said softly, slowly. “Would you...” He trailed off, and he shook his head. “I do not want you to see me. You three must leave, mustn’t you?”

Larry nodded, “We need to catch a flight. Are you gonna be okay?”

He nodded, and the others left—they had too much to do to linger, and (Name) stayed only long enough to kiss her husband slowly, offering her love.

**_ End Chapter _ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well. Not exactly as the movie was, but I always wondered how the others managed to climb in to the box with Ahk...I mean, they had to be awake to insist they wanted to help, so I imagine them all just sneaking in and climbing in themselves. Or something of the like. Not sure how it really worked, but I thought I'd insert a minor thought on it; Ahk probably went to talk to Teddy, or they were listening, as I imagine they're concerned, too.
> 
> Anyway, that said, comments, questions, and suggestions are all gladly and gratefully accepted. Thank you all for your support!


	10. Chatper Ten

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  ** _DISCLAIMER:_** I do **NOT** own _Night at the Museum_ , or any of its contents, characters, actors, ideas...or anything at all related to it. I never have, and I never will. This is written for fun. I’m dirt poor, so sorry. This is for my entertainment and for those who read this.
> 
> I also don't own anything remotely recognizable in the story; music, devices, brand names or anything; if you recognize it, I don't own it. I make nothing off of anything. None of my works provide me a profit. Basically, **_I own absolutely nothing._** Point blank.
> 
> I am so genuinely awed, and grateful, and _humbled_ by all the positive attention this story is getting. I know Ahk/Larry is the dominate pairing of the fandom, so I didn't entirely expect this to do well, but it _has,_ and you guys are absolutely amazing. Thank you so much. Truly.
> 
> Thank you to all who've commented, and given me kudos, and to those who keep coming back for more—you don't know how much I appreciate it. You're fantastic.
> 
> And to those who suggest this to friends (Shout out to _The No Life Kid_ for doing so!), I can't tell you how amazing that is to me—to know that you guys enjoy it enough to want to introduce someone else...oh my gosh. You're just...yeah, amazing. Thank you guys _so_ much for doing that.
> 
> Thank you all.
> 
> Anyway, enough of my blubbering. I have an important announcement to make.
> 
>  ** _I will be leaving on a vacation on April ninth._** Now, I will be about a fourteen hour drive from home, and therefore, from the ability to post chapters. I will dutifully post each chapter in the same pattern I have thus far—about every three days—until I leave, but while I'm gone, I will be unable to post new chapters. I'll be gone until the eighteenth, and possibly the nineteenth, and I tell you this because that's more than a week, and the nineteenth would be the day I would spend recovering from the drive home. This will not mean, in any way, shape, or form, that the story has been abandoned—I will merely be away for a bit over a week. I promise, when I return, you will have a new chapter as soon as my brain recovers from the trip, and I should like that to be shortly afterward.
> 
> If you should have questions or comments on the story while I'm gone, please feel free to leave them; I'll try to answer, when I have the time and don't run the risk of killing my phone. (Yes, I'm an old lady who has yet to convert to a laptop...)
> 
> I think it important to give you all the heads-up in this case, because I don't want to spring it on you last-minute that I'll be vanishing. I'll be posting this same note on each chapter from this one until I leave.
> 
> Thank you for your time.
> 
> Enjoy!

**_ Chapter Ten _ **

They had a day to spend in London—the flight had been overnight, and they arrived just after dawn, when Ahkmenrah was a mummy once more. (Name) and Larry agreed that, aside from the airport, they shouldn't be seen together. (Name) would bring Evan—her mother would be waiting in a nearby hotel, for safety—and sneak in with Nick. They'd worked out a vague plan and had hoped, beyond all hope, that it would work; they would knock and Ahkmenrah, when the sun fell, would let them in.

(Name) held Evan in her arms, waiting behind Nick, who'd heard about the two from his dad. He saw that the little boy looked surprised and happy, but curious—they'd barely managed to explain what was going on without saying too much. So, when the strange night guard had fallen asleep in her booth, they'd gone to the gate, and Larry let them in; the tablet had begun to glow and, shortly, Ahkmenrah would be able to let them in.

The pharaoh dashed to the door at the knock, letting them in quickly, “How we doing?” It was Larry, looking around—they didn't need to be caught.

“All clear,” the Egyptian confirmed, nodding.

“Alright, let's go,” Larry said, tossing aside his jacket.

Ahkmenrah hesitated, but walked beside Larry, seeing (Name) put their son on the ground and shove their jackets and warm gear in a backpack, “Larry, the others felt, perhaps, we could use some help.”

Larry's tone was not short on surprise, “The others?”

As Teddy popped up out of the packing peanuts, (Name) gently took her husband's hand, “Lawrence, I couldn't sit idly by. Our very survival is at stake,” he stated.

Larry seemed relieved, if a little exasperated, “Alright. Hey, Teddy. Good. Good man to have in a crisis,” he said, looking on the bright side. As Attila climbed out, nodding, Larry's tone declined; he sounded...not quite defeated, but resigned, “Attila. Okay, a little muscle.”

Sacagawea rose from the peanuts next, “Hi, Larry.”

Larry shook his head, “That is a deceptively large...box.”

“Obviously, we came along, too!” It was Octavius; the tiny Roman was hiding in Attila’s hat.

“You know you'd be lost without us, Gigantor,” Jed added.

“Are you serious?” It was Larry's incredulous voice, and he sounded sorely disappointed when Dexter climbed on to the lip of the box, chittering, “And the monkey. Alright. Basically everyone,” he summed up, sighing.

Another burst of peanuts flew from the box, and its cause was a caveman. “Dada!”

Larry's tone was even more sour than before, and Nick stared, confused, at the figure that looked so like his father, “Oh! No, no. No possible benefit whatsoever,” he grumbled.

Ahkmenrah, it seemed, was a bit soft, “He...really wanted to come.”

After an exchange between Larry, Nick, and Laaa—the caveman—Teddy tried to break the tension as he climbed from the crate, “So, Lawrence, what's the plan of attack?”

Larry was grateful for the distraction, diving in to the question immediately, “Ah, okay... We need to get to the Egyptian wing, find Ahk's father, and hopefully get the tablet fixed.” He paused, “All of us,” he added, looking at (Name) and Evan.

They were interrupted by an odd outburst by Laaa, and as Larry tried to get the caveman to stay behind—out of the way—Evan reached for his father, “Daddy!”

Ahkmenrah picked the little figure up carefully, but that one word seemed to have restored a well of energy he didn't know he'd lost, “Hello, Evan,” he greeted, grinning, and squeezed his son against his chest, having left the tablet to his wife.

“Are you better Daddy? Mama said you were sick.”

He looked at (Name) over Evan's head, “I think I'm starting to feel very well, indeed,” he said softly, not lying; he felt weak, but seeing his son and his wife made him feel better. “I think seeing you has fixed everything,” he said, grinning.

Larry caught their attention, “Okay, listen up, guys.” He was striding toward them, determined, having managed to get Laaa to stick in place, “This place is waking up for the first time, and we have no idea what's out there, so stay together, alright?” His gaze lingered deliberately on (Name) and Evan, especially.

(Name) gently tugged on Evan's arm, “Baby, would you walk tonight? Daddy's still a little tired,” she said softly, not wanting to give Ahkmenrah too much to deal with; he did look weaker, and it scared her. “Or I'll carry you.”

“I'll walk, Mama,” he offered, and he slipped, carefully, from the Egyptian's arms, and took his mother's offered hand. He watched his father take the tablet back, and put it down in to the pack Nick had on his back, and they followed the others out in to the hallway. Figures on the walls moved, and they turned a corner in to a room with broken, incomplete statues; the place was dark and creepy, and Evan nearly climbed his mother's leg in fear as a figure lacking feet stumbled about. She gathered her little one in to her arms gently, soothing him as best as she could.

“What kind of haunted hootenanny is this, boys?” It was Jed's voice, drawling from Attila’s hat. Ahkmenrah knelt to collect Dexter from the floor, keeping the tiny monkey close; they were all a little rattled by the strangeness of this new museum.

The stone figures clanked as they fumbled around, “We're all finding this super creepy, right?” It was Nick's voice, a little meeker than before.

Larry tried to soothe the others, “They're just a little freaked out,” he assured, but he looked nervous, too.

Teddy piped up next, “First time we came alive it took some getting used to,” he admitted, thinking back.

Larry assured a centaur they were passing that they were merely heading further in to the museum, and the group moved in to a hall; this one had mounted animal heads on the wall, and all turned to the approaching humans. They began to walk down the hallway, looking about, trying to keep aware of their surroundings, and Sacagawea reached out to take the monkey from Ahkmenrah; the little creature climbed on to her shoulder.

They were halted by a soft thudding, and the group stopped before they could even get halfway through the hall. “Hear that?” It was Larry; he'd reached out to stop them.

“Hear what?” Even Teddy looked nervous, but it was Nick that spoke.

Around the corner came a huge, white figure, and its immense, skeletal body turned out to be exactly that; a skeleton. It was...a dinosaur. A dinosaur shorter than Rexy, but far more fierce-looking.

As the adults of the group reacted, little Evan cuddled closer to his mother, “Mama?”

“Shh, baby,” she soothed, holding him closer. “Shh.”

Ahkmenrah wanted to go to the little one, but he, like the others, was utterly petrified. They stood, frozen, trying desperately not to to give in to the urge to run. Teddy spoke slowly, “Lawrence...” for the first time, his voice was barely above a thread, “I think it's safe to say that we're in a bit of trouble.”

Larry stepped forward boldly, “I know how to handle this guy,” he said, going toward a tusk on the wall; he asked a boar if it was a problem, and the creature snorted and shook its head rapidly. It seemed that Larry was going to test to see if this new dinosaur would react like Rexy. Tense, breathless moments passed as Larry talked to the skeleton gently, offering it the tusk, and at first, it seemed to work...until the dinosaur broke the tusk in twain and began to gag.

“Lawrence?”

“Yeah?”

“May I suggest a different plan?”

“What?”

The dinosaur roared at the same time that Teddy's voice rose to its highest volume, “RUN!”

The group, nearly as one, turned and sprinted at top speed—Evan could see over his mother's shoulder that the dinosaur, at first, could not find purchase on the slick floor, but once it found momentum, the creature seemed unstoppable.

They turned a corner and he slammed in to a display case, and Ahkmenrah reached back for his lover; he pulled her, hard, and put her before him, urging her on desperately; she had their son, and he could not allow anything to happen to either precious figure.

They headed in to another room, but it was a dead end. Thankfully, there were huge, solid wooden doors, and Larry and Nick closed them immediately, latching them tightly.

“Okay. I think we're—”

The doors burst in to splinters and the skeleton barreled toward them, Larry urging everyone to move back.

While the night guard tried to fend off the dinosaur, Ahkmenrah drew (Name) and little Evan close; he wrapped both in to his arms, and he felt his son shaking in fear. “Evan, listen to my voice,” he said softly, keeping close to the little one's ear; he needed to make sure the roaring didn't drown him out. He was watching the creature out of the corner of his eye, trying desperately to sooth his little boy. He began to sing, softly, in his own language, a quiet little lullaby that his own mother had used to soothe him—he'd used it, too, for himself, while he was trapped in the box on the flight, and it had even seemed to sooth the stowaway exhibits.

His shaking didn't quite stop, but he began to pay heed to his father's soft, low voice, not understanding the language, but trying to listen. He allowed himself to be soothed by his parents, and turned his attention to them, until, at last, the roaring stopped. He timidly lifted his head, and he saw the dinosaur tip-toeing away, its tail tucked between its legs.

His parents, too, finally looked up, and Ahkmenrah was the first to react, releasing his wife and reaching up to his son, “Evan, are you alright?” Despite how much he loved (Name), his son was his priority. It might have been the instinctive urge to protect the next generation, or, perhaps, it was simply because it was his son, but whatever the reason, Evan was first, and his sweet wife was second.

The little boy turned to see his father, and the pharaoh was wide eyed and worried, looking more scared for Evan than for himself. He let go of his mother, slowly, and turned to Ahkmenrah; his little arms wrapped around his father's neck carefully, gently, “I'm okay, Daddy.”

Ahkmenrah gladly took his son in to his arms, despite his tiredness. He could feel the weakness creeping higher as the tablet malfunctioned, but his son gave him life and energy in ways the tablet couldn't, and even if it was his last breath, he would spend it caring for his son and wife. To feel the little boy, safe and sound, in his arms made him feel better, and he gave a soft sigh as he cuddled him close, kissing his dark hair softly. But now he looked at his wife, and she saw that she was as frightened and worried as he'd been, “Are you okay, my love?”

She smiled, taking a deep breath, “Yes, yes...I was just...worried about you two,” she said softly, and she nodded. “What about you? I don't think that thing caught up to any of us, but...”

“Perfectly fine,” he assured gently, giving up one of his arms to take her hand and squeeze it.

“Daddy?”

“Yes?”

“Can I go back to Mama? She says you're still tired, and I want you better!” He nodded, as though it was the smartest thing in the world, “She says if you're sick you should rest until you're better, or you'll get sick again, so this is the same thing, right?”

(Name) was surprised, but left grinning, proud. Ahkmenrah, too, was surprised at his son's intelligence, but seeing how much the little boy loved him...well, the pharaoh might have leaped from a building if his son asked it, at that moment. “Your mother is a wise woman,” he said, agreeing, and he gave his son a little squeeze before he handed the tiny figure back to (Name) at last.

They approached, at last, the rest of the group, and were introduced to...Lancelot? (Name) felt a strange prickle of distrust climb her spine, and it made her clutch her little boy closer to her. She remembered bits and pieces of stories about Lancelot, and, while it was a heroic tale, she seemed to recall this hero not being one she was overly fond of. She thought she remembered him intending to take the queen from his king, or some such thing, and that had led to her wondering about the other side of the story. Lancelot had always seemed a bit too perfect, and (Name) wasn't apt to trust anyone of the like anymore—her rapist had made sure of that. Ahkmenrah was an exception, but he had earned her trust, too.

The knight seemed to prove (Name)'s point, in her mind, as he rambled on about how Larry reminded him of a jester and went on to insist that they'd find him a hat for the part. While temporarily funny, (Name) was feeling the press of time; they needed to get to Ahkmenrah's parents. She had the distinct feeling that, by the end of the night, she would probably want to punch the fictional knight right in the nose. Even Ahkmenrah seemed bored and unamused, and eyed the blond with distaste as he went on about Queen Guinevere—the king seemed to have the same doubts as his wife as to the trustworthiness of the blond man.

As he went on about duties and deeds and his “quest,” (Name) gave a heavy sigh. At last, they began walking, but Attila caught their attention; Jedidiah and Octavius were missing from his hat. The group immediately began to retrace their steps, looking for any sign of the tiny fellows, and Sacagawea was paying closest attention; she had helped them when she was first freed, tracking Cecil, so she was sure to have the sharpest eyes.

However, when they saw Octavius' cape fluttering in a vent cover, their hearts dropped. They rushed to the vent, and Larry handed the tablet—which they'd pulled from the backpack after the incident with the dinosaur—to its rightful owner. Larry and Nick tugged the vent cover off, and Larry looked desperately in to the shiny, silver hole in the floor. “Guys?” The panic rose as no one could see even a hint of the two miniatures in the vent, “Jed?” Larry was beginning to feel panic rising in him. Winter was here and the heat was on—the tiny, plastic men wouldn't do well.

“They won't last long in those heating vents, Lawrence,” Teddy said softly, worriedly.

Ahkmenrah, surprising everyone, said something decidedly...dark, “At their size, they'll bake like tiny little scarabs in the Sinai.” Of course, it wasn't the first time he'd said something of dark humor, but it seemed it still disturbed the other exhibits, and especially Larry—he looked like the pharaoh had slapped him. Ahkmenrah paused, “Too dark?”

(Name) had to hold back her giggles. The others were disturbed, but she knew that he'd said it out of concern. After all, surely, as a man raised on the edge of the desert, he'd seen people die from the effects of heat—he would know what a foul death it was, and while there was a touch of humor in it, the concern beneath it had been obvious, to her. He didn't think so lowly of his tiny friends. She reached for her lover's hand as Larry looked around, and then saw a panel on the wall—he hoped it would allow him to turn off the heating system.

When it wouldn't open, the guard broke the glass with his elbow, turning on the screen and, at last, managed to shut off the system; the quiet hum of the vents died to an ominous silence, and Attila immediately leaned right over the vent, looking ready to stick his head down in to it. “Jedo!” His voice was a yell, desperate, “Octo!” When he heard nothing, he lifted, looking at the others, and said something in his own language, utterly out of heart. It was, after all, he who'd been carrying them; he felt responsible.

Larry sighed as he approached, “They could be anywhere between here and the intake vent.” Dexter, at his nearness, dropped carefully down in to the vent, “What do you see, Dex?”

“You know, he's a monkey, Lawrence.” Teddy's voice was reasonable, but the man seemed to be wondering for the guard's sanity, “He can't talk.”

“No, but he can fit,” he said, thinking, “Nicky...give me your phone.”

His son looked confused, but dug in his pocket and handed it over, “Why?”

Sounding perfectly confident, Larry said, simply, “For Dex.”

As Larry stood, Lancelot spoke, “I don't understand one thing that's going on here,” he muttered.

“Yeah, no, I don't, either.” They were walking farther down the hall, and it seemed that the skeleton had done a lot of damage; glass was trailed along the floor and the railing on the edge of a lower portion of the floor was crushed, with bits of exhibits strewn across it. “Dad, what's going on?” The display the dinosaur had slammed in to seemed to have sprayed glass several feet, but Larry found what he needed on the bent railing; a string of rope, not too thick, but just enough for his needs.

“I'm...uh...sort of set up to track your phone,” he said slowly, looking around more.

“You're sort of set up to track my phone?” Nick's voice was offended and incredulous, “You track my phone?”

Larry was kneeling, pulling at another item in a display, “Yeah, I'm your dad. I'm looking out for you,” he muttered.

Of course Nick was furious, “No, no, hold up.” He was glaring down at his father as he worked, “'Spying on' is not the same thing as just looking out for someone!”

Larry missed the point—or ignored it—and assured Nick he would get his phone back, but clarified that the thing was going on the monkey's back. (Name) hesitated, sensing the tension, and as Larry spoke, she softly squeezed her husband's hand and moved around the group, to Nick. “Alright. Dex, come here,” he said. The little monkey climbed out of the vent carefully, “Thanks, man.” He began to tie the phone around the little figure, “Alright, listen. I need you to go down there and find them, alright?” He was doing his best not to sound too worried; he was sure Dexter would find them...somehow. “Think you can handle it?” Dexter saluted. “Good man,” he replied, saluting back. “Stay safe.”

As Dexter leaped in to the vent and took off, (Name) touched Nick's arm gently, to get his attention, “Don't be too hard on your dad,” she said softly, slowly. “Believe me, I panic when I can't find Evan in my own house,” she added.

“He's a kid.”

“Yes...but so are you,” she said gently. When the younger man made to protest and seemed offended, she spoke again, “Please let me explain,” she said, softly, “Give me a moment. Please?”

He seemed reluctant, but as they began walking, he fell to the back of the group with her, and Ahkmenrah gave them space, “...Okay,” he finally said.

“I get it...you think you can take care of yourself, that you've got it all figured out.” She said this slowly, “And that's good. You get out there and you do your best and you'll find a way, because you're confident. That's a good thing. I imagine you'll get knocked down a few times, because we all do...but you eventually have to keep going, so I think that strength of mind you've got is a good thing,” she offered. “But imagine, years down the line, when you've got your head on straight and you decide to settle down.” When he made to interrupt her again, she grinned, holding her hand up, “Give it a few years. It might not change...but it might,” she said gently. “But give me the benefit, here. Imagine you're married and have a child of your own. The first thing in your head is your baby. Is he okay, is he eating enough, is he making friends...are you doing the right thing? You don't think of anything else,” she said softly. “And the one thing my mother will always say to me...is that, no matter how old I am, I'm her baby. I'm her priority. It's not her; she'd give me the last penny she had to take care of me.” She said this slowly, and she gently tightened her grip on her son. “I think my mother would sell her organs if she needed to take care of me, Nick. And I would give my life for Evan,” she said softly. “That isn't going to change when he's your age. If anything, I'll be scared out of my mind as to if he's going to be okay. We all think, when we're teenagers, that we've got it figured out and we don't need anyone's help. But you set foot in the real world and it's nothing like you expect. And I know that...perhaps even better than your father, because I'm closer to your age.”

Nick seemed to think about that, and they heard Lancelot poking fun at Larry's mannerisms again. “But...tracking my phone?” He sounded flustered, but it was subdued, a little, by her speech. “He doesn't trust me,” he grumbled.

“That's not the case, hon,” she said softly. “Your father trusts you far more than you imagine. He told me he leaves you alone when he works at night,” she said, smiling. “My mother threw a fit when she went out of town and left me alone for one night. I thought she didn't trust me...even though I'm not the sort to party or trash the house, I figured that's what she thought I'd do,” she admitted. “It's not fear for what you'll do, Nick...it's fear for what someone else might do.” She paused, and they kept walking, slowly, following Larry as he followed the dot on his phone. “And it's fear for you. He worries about you, because he loves you. Believe me, Nick, whatever you might think, Larry is an excellent father, and he does want what's best for you. He wants to do his best for you, he wants to give you everything you deserve. That's what a good parent wants, and he is that, Nick. So...don't be too hard on him,” she urged, gently. “I know it's difficult. But...as a young mother...I understand much better why my parents were the way they were, and I can assure you, he's doing his best,” she offered.

He hesitated, “What about your father? What does he think of all this?” He was sure she would catch the implication.

“He doesn't,” she said, slowly, and now, Ahkmenrah fell back; he curled an arm around her waist gently. “He died...years ago.” She took comfort in her husband's grip, using it to speak, “But I imagine...I imagine a lot of things.” She paused, her eyes going to her son, and he had settled and curled up against her; it seemed the fear from before had left him tired, and he was relying on his mother, now. “I imagine he would've wanted...a lot of things to be different. He was a bit stubborn, stuck in his ways. He still thought you should be able to offer a good smile, a firm handshake, and get a job in a moment...and he thought children should only come with marriage. He was a racist. I daresay that, though he'd love me, he wouldn't appreciate that my son is half-Egyptian,” she muttered. “And...and I'm sure that Larry...explained...”

“Yeah, he...uh...after the airport this morning, he sort of...yeah.” Nick didn't know how to explain without accidentally telling Evan, in case the child was awake, and knew not to say too much.

“Well, I'm quite sure that, if he'd been alive at the time, he would've killed that man, no matter the consequences...but Daddy didn't live to see that.” She hesitated, and then sighed. “But in the end...despite the...strange circumstances, I know he would've loved Evan...and I think he might've accepted Ahk, with time. Daddy loved me, and though he probably wouldn't have liked how it happened, one day, he would have come to understand, I hope.” She shook her head, “But my mother is the one who's here, and she loves all three of us. I know she doesn't like what happened...but she respects me and has helped me every step of the way. She always worries about me, tries to take care of everything...and I know that she always will,” she said softly. “And I think that's what parents do, Nick. So...let your dad be your dad. Believe me, you should appreciate it while you have the chance. One day, you'll be out on your own and want nothing more than for your dad to be with you,” she said softly.

“At least you know your daddy,” a little voice said. “I didn't know mine until just now,” it added, sounding sleepy. “Daddies are important.”

(Name) blinked in surprise, and then she laughed, and she hugged her son a little tighter, “Playing possum, were you?”

He grinned up at his mother, but he did look sleepy, “Just a little,” he said.

She grinned, and she kissed his forehead, “We should get you in to acting, buddy. You'd be great,” she teased.

The little one grinned at her, but he cuddled back in to her shoulder a few moments later, sighing. Nick watched them for a moment, “I guess...you're right,” he said slowly. “I'll think about that.”

(Name) knew she couldn't really persuade him, as she knew the stubbornness of teenagers, but she knew both sides to it; she knew how it felt to be a parent...and it was only a few years ago that she'd been a teenager. So she took that in stride, nodding, with a smile, and then allowed herself to cuddle in to her husband, relishing the warmth of his arm. They had already turned a corner in to a wide, open area of the museum, and all were awed; there were birds flying overhead and figures, now getting the hang of their life, wandering the floors. Lancelot continued to pester Larry as they followed Dexter, and (Name) felt a growing annoyance pricking at her senses; she wanted to tell him to back off, but she knew better than to start trouble. They had a goal, and they needed to reach it sooner than later.

But when the knight insulted her husband, her eyes narrowed; she knew Ahkmenrah heard every word and was ignoring him, as his noble birth had trained, but (Name) had no such upbringing and wouldn't stand for this man—who, in her opinion, was being quite rude—insulting her love. “You lay one finger on him and I'll break it,” she growled.

He seemed surprised when he turned to her, to see her eyes narrowed and her features harsher than before; he'd disregarded her as a meek woman early on. She was pretty enough, but decidedly not like Guinevere. She seemed a little more fierce now, but the child in her arms, he was sure, would hinder any threats she might make. Thankfully, Larry stepped in before he could properly think on what to do, “No, we're not trying to take it, we're trying to fix it,” he explained quickly. “It's...there's something wrong with it,” he added, glancing back to (Name). “You know what, it's kind of complicated.”

Lancelot either didn't consider (Name) a threat, or Larry had sufficiently distracted him, “It might be less complicated if you stopped following a chimpanzee.”

Larry, as ever, defended his little monkey friend, “He's not a chimpanzee, he's a Capuchin.” He was trying to explain, but he was flustered; perhaps as flustered as (Name), and he walked on ahead.

Lancelot dropped back a little, turning to Teddy, “The fool seems agitated.”

Teddy hesitated, “That's often his way,” he began, “but I assure you, he's no fool.” Of course Teddy would defend Larry, and (Name) appreciated it.

Now his attention turned to Ahkmenrah, and instinctively, the pharaoh released his wife and stepped between her and the knight, protective, though the man was only speaking, “Is it true what he says? The tablet that you carry is magic?”

Ahkmenrah, (Name) thought, was, perhaps, too kind for his own good. Though he was distrusting, he spoke openly, “It is indeed,” he declared proudly. “Everything around you has come to life tonight for the very first time...all because of this tablet,” he explained.

As the group looked around in wonder, they were forced to duck a group of birds darting overhead. Lancelot, however, didn't seem to regard the magic as reverently as the group; they were awed by it, yet they appreciated it for what it was and what it did. Lancelot seemed to think little of it; he thought himself above it, though he was impressed, “Amazing.” He paused, “Then they're not real?” He was pointing to the birds that had already flown away.

Teddy spoke, slowly and distinctly, hoping to give Lancelot the truth gently—not to shove it in his face, “They're as real as any of us.”

It went over Lancelot's head, and (Name) felt horribly flustered, reaching out to take her husband's hand—she feared she might slap the oaf. “Yes, but we're real people. They're just things,” he said, and continued, astonished, “And they don't even know!” Ahkmenrah and Teddy shared a knowing look as Lancelot spouted on, oblivious, “They must be unbelievably stupid.”

Teddy tried again, “It can be confusing, at first,” he offered.

Lancelot still didn't catch the implication, and turned to a passing, giant frog, “Hello, frog! Keep hopping! You're real!”

In her fluster, (Name) muttered sourly, “Only someone unbelievably stupid doesn't consider his own place in the situation.”

That caught the knights attention, “And who are _you_ in this situation?” The question was nearly vicious.

“A mother and a wife caring for those she loves,” she offered stoutly, nearly glaring at the man from behind her husband.

“Mothers and wives should be at home while the husbands and fathers take on the quest,” he spat. “Perhaps you should take that to heart.”

Her eyes narrowed again, her brows furrowing, “If a wife cannot care for her husband in the face of her own fear then she belongs at home, but those of us with heart and love enough to fight for it should be allowed that right. I won't sit idly by and I will do whatever I need to do to defend my own. I don't suggest that you get in my way,” she said fiercely. “We each have a place in the world. Mine is with my husband and my son, to do what I can. No one will take that from me,” she declared.

Both Lancelot and Ahkmenrah seemed surprised, but Ahkmenrah's surprise was tempered with pride and love. His wife had come far from their first meeting; the timid young woman he'd first spoken with remained, but she was strong and powerful when it meant defending her son...and himself. Ahkmenrah did not miss that she was here for him; to help him and protect him in the face of the unknown, and he was so proud of her that he felt his heart might burst. He went to her, drawing her little body in to his arms, and he kissed her softly, “You speak as a true queen, my love,” he murmured, smiling. “No king could ask for more,” he said, trying to sooth her; he didn't want a fight to interrupt their mission.

Lancelot eyed her strangely, but Larry, thankfully, had a great distraction, “Guys, I think we're gonna have to cut through Asia.”

As the knight marched toward Larry in haste, Ahkmenrah brought (Name) and Evan with him, up to Teddy. The older man spoke, “Not a clue,” he murmured softly.

Ahkmenrah chuckled, “None.”

They began walking, but Teddy turned to smile at (Name), “You are an incredible woman, my dear. I think your strength will help us all,” he said, smiling. “And no one will ask you to stand by. I think we're very lucky to have you along,” he decided.

Ahkmenrah, despite all his surprise to this point, was exceedingly proud of his wife, and he nodded, “I quite agree, my love. I would not have you anywhere else. I'm glad you came,” he said softly. He had tried to persuade her not to, at first, but now he was glad she hadn't listened.

They strode in to another room, and Ahkmenrah curled his arm back around her waist, drawing her in to his side, and they passed through a room with beautiful displays. Though they were following Dexter, the monkey was tiny enough for them to look at the rooms around them, and they took it in. (Name) did, however, overhear that Nick seemed to have softened a little to his father; he seemed a little less angry after their discussion, and she felt better, knowing that, perhaps, things would work out for the best between the two.

The pharaoh gently dipped his head and pressed his lips against (Name)'s temple, holding her closer, “Thank you for coming, my queen,” he said softly.

“You couldn't have stopped me,” she assured, smiling, and lifted her head to kiss him back, trying to keep the worry from clotting up her chest.

He smiled at her, and he bent his head to find her lips, leaving a lingering kiss there, “I love you.” He added something soft in his own language, and sweet, and it made her blush gently; she thought it must have been a nickname of some sort.

“I love you too,” she breathed gently, and she kissed him back, settling gently in his grip when she finally let him go.

Whatever trials they were going to face, they had each other, and both took comfort in that.

**_ End Chapter _ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit testy, are we? I realize she's rather aggressive toward Lancelot, but she's flustered and impatient and _terrified_ and all of that is becoming anger and Lancelot has become her target. I admit he wasn't my favorite character, as he was an impudent, ignorant little asshole, but I feel the aggression here is warranted; (Name) wants to save Ahkmenrah, and in this case, I daresay she'd go through Lancelot, the dinosaur, and a whole freaking Hun army if she had to, just to do it.
> 
> Anyway, that aside, the next...two chapters are the most exciting (and potentially emotionally wrenching) ones yet.
> 
> For now, however, I hope you all have thoroughly enjoyed this one.
> 
> As always, comments, questions, and suggestions are gladly (and gratefully!) accepted.
> 
>  ** _I will be leaving on a vacation on April ninth._** Now, I will be about a fourteen hour drive from home, and therefore, from the ability to post chapters. I will dutifully post each chapter in the same pattern I have thus far—about every three days—until I leave, but while I'm gone, I will be unable to post new chapters. I'll be gone until the eighteenth, and possibly the nineteenth, and I tell you this because that's more than a week, and the nineteenth would be the day I would spend recovering from the drive home. This will not mean, in any way, shape, or form, that the story has been abandoned—I will merely be away for a bit over a week. I promise, when I return, you will have a new chapter as soon as my brain recovers from the trip, and I should like that to be shortly afterward.
> 
> If you should have questions or comments on the story while I'm gone, please feel free to leave them; I'll try to answer, when I have the time and don't run the risk of killing my phone. (Yes, I'm an old lady who has yet to convert to a laptop...)
> 
> I think it important to give you all the heads-up in this case, because I don't want to spring it on you last-minute that I'll be vanishing. I'll be posting this same note on each chapter from this one until I leave.
> 
> Thank you for your time.


	11. Chapter Eleven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  ** _DISCLAIMER:_** I do **NOT** own _Night at the Museum_ , or any of its contents, characters, actors, ideas...or anything at all related to it. I never have, and I never will. This is written for fun. I’m dirt poor, so sorry. This is for my entertainment and for those who read this.
> 
> I also don't own anything remotely recognizable in the story; music, devices, brand names or anything; if you recognize it, I don't own it. I make nothing off of anything. None of my works provide me a profit. Basically, **_I own absolutely nothing._** Point blank.
> 
> Thank you all for the attention and comments and kudos thus far; it's so amazing to have this sort of attention on this story, especially when I never expected it.
> 
> I truly appreciate it.
> 
> **_I will be leaving on a vacation on April ninth._** This means I'll be unable to post new chapters, as...well, I'm an old lady that hates trying to type on a laptop (coughcough), but it doesn't mean I'm abandoning the work. I'll be gone for a little over a week, but when I return, I assure you that you'll have a new chapter. In the mean time, if you have comments or questions, feel free to submit them; I _do_ have a cell phone I can use, as it wouldn't be typing up nine-plus pages of text, and I shall do my best to answer any I feel that need it.
> 
> Now, no further delays; the new chapter of _A Moment of Magic,_ and the most thrilling yet (I promise!).
> 
> Enjoy!

**_ Chapter Eleven _ **

It wasn't far before Larry was forced to stop by a...strange...golden...thing. It mimicked Larry when he spoke to the little creature and jabbered in a high voice, and wouldn't let them pass, despite Larry's efforts. At last, when Larry took on an angry tone, the little creature stepped aside, though Larry seemed apprehensive; was the Garuda trying to warn them? They finally walked to the edge of the room, and each froze, and Larry urged them to step to the side and hide, and Ahkmenrah hid behind Larry, and (Name) pressed carefully behind her husband, keeping her baby in her arms. That...creature inside was enormous, and (Name) would confess that one of her greatest fears was a snake. And it _looked_ like a snake. She had to force herself not to squeeze her son too tightly in her own fear, and she focused, instead, on her lover; her son seemed to be exhausted from his fright and, while not asleep, the little boy was on the verge of it.

Of course, Lancelot was quite eager about the affair; he saw the strange creature and his eyes lit up, “A dragon.”

“No, it's not a dragon,” Larry corrected quickly. “It's a...” he ducked his head backward, “It's a Xiangliu.” He paused, looking back at the description on the plaque, “A mythical snake demon.”

“Well, it looks like a dragon,” Lancelot pressed. “I say we kill it.”

Larry's eyes narrowed, “What? No, it's asleep,” he argued, and (Name) thudded her head against Ahkmenrah's nape gently as the two went back and forth about slaying dragons and becoming men. “This idiot has less of a brain than a rock,” she muttered, and Ahkmenrah couldn't help chuckling; he rather thought the knight odd, too. Still, he felt her lips softly touch his skin. “How do you feel, love?”

He had a chance, this time, to lie; he wasn't looking at her. He feared to tell her the truth, because he could feel himself growing weaker with the passing moments, and he was getting more and more worried when Lancelot wouldn't back down, despite all of Larry's efforts since they'd met. He'd had his doubts at their first meeting, but Ahkmenrah was beginning to firmly believe that the strange knight was utterly insane. “I'm fine,” he said soothingly. “I cannot wait for you to meet my parents,” he threw in, knowing it would distract her.

She flushed; he felt the heat against his neck, “I have the distinct feeling they won't approve of me. I'm no princess.”

He grinned, though she couldn't see it, “Indeed you aren't. You are a queen, and far better than anyone I have ever met. They will love you,” he assured.

They were forced to stop when, at last, Larry began to sneak around the edge of the room; Ahkmenrah followed immediately, and (Name) behind him. Teddy was next, keeping Sacagawea close, and Attila brought up the rear, each trying desperately to keep quiet; they knew they had very little time. Nights might have been longer this time of year, but the tablet was nearly coated with the green corrosion, and each feared to let it get any farther up the object that kept them alive.

Even just hearing the creature breathe rattled (Name)'s nerves, but when the tablet began to glow an ugly green, all other fears were forgotten; Larry stopped, and then Ahkmenrah, and finally, (Name) and the others. It took only a moment for it to affect the exhibits: Ahkmenrah began to groan and fell, gasping, in to Larry's arms, and Teddy, though he tried not to, began to babble. Sacagawea froze, as though she had become wax again, and Attila began to panic in earnest as he couldn't get her to react. Teddy—quoting a president (Name) was too preoccupied to remember—awoke the giant, metal demon, and chaos followed.

Lancelot, unsurprisingly, was delighted with that turn of events, and he drew his sword. He began to battle the creature, and Nick cried for his father, and Larry could do no other than try to go to his son, leaving Ahkmenrah on the floor, helpless and breathless, and Attila, clutching at the pharaoh.

“Baby, baby, hey, sweetheart, I need you awake, come on, honey,” (Name) said, shaking her son gently.

“Mama?”

“Baby, I need you to look at me, okay? Listen to me, honey,” she rushed, terrified. “Daddy's sick. I need you to get down, okay, baby? I need you to take care of him for me, sweetheart.”

Evan looked frightened, and he turned his head, seeing the giant creature, and then, in his fright, turned toward the wall where his father was collapsed. “Daddy's sick?”

“Yes, Daddy's sick. I need you to take care of him, baby. Will you sit with him?” When the little boy finally nodded, she put him down, “Hold his hand, baby, and no matter what, don't leave him, okay?”

(Name) was absolutely terrified of snakes. She'd had few nightmares in her life, but more than one was about snakes. They were second only to losing her husband, and at that moment, the risk of the latter seemed too high for her not to do something. She trembled, but looked around for a weapon, and then thought, “Attila, forgive me, but I need your sword,” she said in a rush, going to the Hun. The man was holding her husband's beaded mantle, and she wanted to tell him not to, but she knew he wasn't truly in control. “Try not to choke him, please,” she begged, and she drew the sword from its scabbard.

She was grateful when the Hun finally released Ahkmenrah, and she stepped before them, clutching the sword in a death grip. “God, I hate snakes,” she said, shaking.

It seemed, however, that she was needed; there were too many heads for only Lancelot, Nick, and Larry to fend off, and too many people in danger, and when a stray snake head lashed out at her, she swung hard. Thankfully, the sword, while not very useful, was enough to clang off the snake and repel it long enough for her to swing again, trying to keep the creature from nearing her loved ones. “Teddy! Teddy, go to Ahkmenrah. Take Sacagawea with you!” She hoped that, if they were all behind her, they would have one less thing to worry about; she was terrified, but she had come to protect her husband, and she meant to do just that.

At last, the tablet seemed to calm down, and Ahkmenrah stood, gathering his son in to his arms, “(Name), love, it's okay. Step back,” he said, worried. “Attila can use his sword now,” he tried to persuade.

“At this point, I'm not sure I can let it go,” she said, still shaking.

The pharaoh clutched Evan closer to him gently, “I need you to take Evan, love,” he tried again; he could see how scared she was.

Evan looked up at his father, “Am I too heavy, Daddy?”

“No, Evan. I just want her to come to us. I want her safe,” he said, desperately; he'd given Evan the tablet and the little boy had pressed it between the two of them.

They were spared further fright, at last, when Larry took a defibrillator to the apparent body of the Xiangliu, and the heads of the snake hit the floor, piled atop each other, smoking from the electricity.

For several moments, (Name) stood there, the sword still held in her hands, but at last, she gasped, and it fell from her grasp with a loud _clang_ , and she collapsed to her knees. “Holy shit I hate snakes. I hate snakes, I hate snakes, I fucking hate snakes!” She had tears rolling down her face from sheer panic and fear and relief.

Though Ahkmenrah quickly nodded when Teddy asked if he was alright, he put Evan on the floor and gathered his wife in to his arms, gripping her tightly, “Love, it's okay. You're okay.”

“Mama said a bad word!”

“Mama wants you to never repeat that word ever,” she gasped, trembling. “And she doesn't want you to repeat any of these, either, so cover your ears.”

Thankfully, Sacagawea ran forward and pressed both of her hands over the little boy's ears, because (Name) followed that with a string of curses foul enough to make a sailor blush, clutching her husband a little too tightly, but she was on the verge of total panic and needed to release her fluster somehow.

Ahkmenrah waited it out, and he rubbed her back gently, allowing her to hold him; he could see how desperately she needed it. When, at last, she began to calm, he lifted his head and pressed his lips to her forehead, “My brave little queen,” he said softly, smiling, and he used his thumbs to brush away the tears at the corners of her eyes. “You are incredible.”

“And foulmouthed and petrified of snakes,” she said, trying to laugh it off, but she shook her head, and she nodded to Sacagawea, thanking her. She offered her arms for her son, and he took the offer quickly.

“Mama?”

“Yes, baby?”

“Are you okay?”

“Your mother is absolutely terrified of snakes, Evan, and she shouldn't curse like that, but sometimes, we do things we shouldn't, and I'm sorry I said those things in front of you,” she said slowly. “But Mama is okay.”

He looked at her, “As long as you're okay.” Then, he turned to his father, “Daddy? Are you okay now?”

“Yes, Evan. Daddy's okay,” he said softly, and he leaned in, kissing the top of his son's head, but he knew that (Name) saw the fear in his eyes; she had seen what was happening. “I'm even more afraid of snakes than Mama is,” he said, trying to cover up his moment of weakness; he didn't want Evan to worry as much as his mother clearly did, and it would keep them from having to explain everything to Evan when they didn't have time.

(Name) mouthed her thanks over their son's head, but they knew they had to get moving.

Larry's cell phone had been crushed beneath one of the snakes, and Teddy showed Larry, reluctantly, that the tablet was truly beginning to die—one of his hands was wax once more, his fingers twisted in a strange shape. Reluctantly, Larry knew he had to make a decision—the miniatures would have to be found later, for, if something happened to the tablet, there would be nothing to save of the tiny figures. “Alright. We'll look for them later,” he said, not liking the idea, but time was scarce and they had not one moment to waste. “We got to get to Egypt now,” he said softly, and he turned away, missing the looks of horror on his friends faces, though they, too, knew the truth.

(Name) reached for her husband's hand, and Evan wrapped his arms around his mother's neck tightly, so she could hold on to her lover. Nick, however, seemed more disappointed than anyone, “Wait, shouldn't we keep looking for Jed and Octavius?”

Lancelot spoke, too, “Nick is right. A true knight never shirks his duties.”

(Name) wanted to scream at the blonde the truth, all of it, wanted to shut him up and wanted to punch him; this was no easy decision for Larry, and they didn't have time to linger. Her fluster and fear were blending together and she knew she was at the end of her rope. But Larry was reasonable; Larry managed to say what she couldn't, in a short, efficient way, “Yeah, well, if we don't get to Egypt soon, we're not gonna save anybody.”

It seemed to get the point across, for they all fell silent and began to walk more quickly than ever.

At Egypt, (Name) was thankful that, though Lancelot tried to go in to a ridiculous dialogue, Larry cut him off hurriedly and rushed everyone in to the Egyptian wing, and she didn't miss the wonder and joy on her husband's face. Indeed, as they crept closer to the display they were looking for, his steps quickened even more, and he spoke, wonder in his tone, “I haven't seen these walls for many a moon,” he breathed.

A woman came from a far corner of the display, a golden crown on her head, with dark hair and turquoise and silver eye makeup, “Ahkmen?” She wore all white, and though she paused, she nearly ran when her brain truly caught up with her eyes.

“Mother.” His eyes were wide and his voice had lowered and was filled with awe and joy. He felt he had not seen her in an eternity, and only the longing for his own, for his (Name) and his son, could compare to the desire he'd had to see his mother, his father.

“Oh!” She gathered her skirts and dashed toward him, gathering him in her arms, and Ahkmenrah gave a heavy, relieved sigh, hugging her back, his eyes closed. It was _home_ and it felt so good, he felt his weakness melt away, as only seeing his son had done.

The woman quietly sobbed as she held her son, and (Name)'s arms tightened on her own little boy; she couldn't imagine how it would feel, not to see her child for more than half a century, perhaps even more. Her nerves were forgotten as she saw her husband, holding tight to his mother, overjoyed to see something familiar. But another figure appeared, and Ahkmenrah's head lifted, “Father.”

The man looked stern, but there was surprise and joy on his face, too—he'd desperately missed his son. But Ahkmenrah's joy was somewhat tempered, and he bowed his head slightly to the older man; (Name) remembered what he'd said, that his father didn't trust him. “Welcome home, my son,” he declared in a richly deep voice. The older pharaoh was an intimidating figure, but the image seemed to shatter when, before even such an audience, he took his son in to a fierce hug.

Ahkmenrah, at least, seemed to relax at the gesture, and he pulled away, gesturing his arm toward the group behind him, “I want you to meet my friends,” he said quickly, and they stepped forward, (Name) and Evan tending toward Ahkmenrah.

He nearly continued, but his father spoke first, “I am Merenkahre, Pharaoh of the Nile and Father to the Son of the Sun,” he declared.

His mother spoke next, “And I am Shepseheret, Glittering Jewel of the Nine Kingdoms,” she introduced.

“And I am Larry,” Larry managed, feeling rushed, but at least a little more relaxed.

Ahkmenrah added, quickly, “Guardian of Brooklyn.”

“Yes...well...I actually live in Manhatten, now,” he said, quietly.

Ahkmenrah shook his head, “I know, but it doesn't sound as cool,” he murmured. However, before Larry could continue, he reached for (Name) gently, and she approached him, her timidity suddenly returned. “Mother, Father, I would like to introduce (Name),” he began, drawing her close.

It took his mother far less time to recognize what was going on than his father, perhaps because of the...well, perhaps because of his father's thoughts on the matter—Ahkmenrah was his favorite son, and no one, after all, would ever be truly good enough. “(Name), you said? And who is this little one?”

(Name) felt as queasy as she had with the snakes—his parents were regal figures and intimidating; though Ahkmenrah was a pharaoh himself, they both seemed to ooze power and dominance and confidence. She glanced at Ahkmenrah, and he nodded, “This is Evan,” she said softly, and she nudged him gently; he was wide awake, now, and she put him on his feet, turning him to face the two rulers.

Both looked surprised beyond belief. Indeed, Shepseheret took a step back in her shock, “Ahkmen, is that...?”

“My son,” he said, before either could speculate too far. “And (Name) is my wife,” he declared, feeling emboldened by her presence.

Merenkahre looked between the three figures, and his eyes narrowed, “Surely she knows the truth—”

“Sir, I'm aware of the truth, perhaps better than anyone, and I'm well aware of what it means, and I daresay your son knows the truth entirely too well.” She was intimidated, but not terrified, and she would stand her ground beside her husband, “But I love him with all my heart, and whatever the future might bring, I made my decision. I will spend my life at his side, so long as he will have me, and I will raise our son as I feel he would want him raised,” she said firmly.

Shepseheret softened instantly, and she looked at Evan, and then at (Name), “May I see him?”

(Name) felt her temper and her urge to defend her husband ease at the acceptance on the older woman's face, “Well, as you are his grandmother,” she said softly, “I think it's only fair.” She knelt, and she touched Evan's shoulder, “Baby, this is Shepseheret. She's your grandmother. Would you go to her?”

The little boy looked nervous, but he nodded, and he walked toward her, thinking. He called (Name)'s mother “Grandmama.” This woman looked younger than the grandmother he knew, and at last, he peered up at her, “Grandma?”

The one word seemed to make her face light up the way Ahkmenrah's did when his son first called him “Daddy,” and she smiled at the little boy, offering to pick him up. He reached for her, and she lifted him in to his arms, “You look just like your father did when he was your size,” she cooed, grinning widely.

The tension seemed to break out of (Name) at last, and she grinned, too, clasping her husband's hand in hers; their fingers laced instinctively. Merenkahre looked at the boy for a little while, and then, at last, his attention turned to his son and (Name), “And how do you feel about her, Ahkmenrah? Did you marry her merely for Evan?”

Ahkmenrah's eyes narrowed, “I love her, Father. I love her far more than I imagine a person capable of, and the same goes for Evan,” he said, slowly and distinctly. “I would have no one else, and if ten thousand more years pass, I would have no other.” His hand tightened on hers, and she squeezed back comfortingly, “I know I was meant to find her, Father.”

(Name)'s heart skipped a beat, and she couldn't help drawing their hands to her mouth, pressing her lips against the back of his, trying to calm him, “I'm a poor prize for four-thousand years of waiting, love, but I hope you know I feel the same,” she said softly.

He laughed at that, and he drew her in to his arms, “There is no one better in all the world, my queen, and you are not a 'prize.' You are a gift from the Gods, no less, and I will persuade you to believe such, one day,” he promised.

She gave a soft sigh, letting herself relax in to his arms, and nodded, smiling against his skin. “You spoil me,” she teased, but it was her thanks.

Merenkahre still seemed a little wary, but Shepseheret had softened entirely to the younger woman, and looked on the verge of giving her a hug around Evan. Larry, however, knew they were still pressed for time, and didn't want the tablet to get any greener, so he knew he must interrupt, no matter how sweet the moment. He turned to Merenkahre, “I'm sorry, but, we would be very honored, if you could take a look at the tablet,” he said, trying to turn the attention to the current problem, hoping not to offend anyone, but he knew this was important—Merenkahre could decide what he thought about his new daughter-in-law later. “There's something happening with it. We don't understand what it is.”

Merenkahre's judging gaze turned directly on Larry, “You are speaking with a pharaoh.” He moved his staff, which was taller than himself, forward, “Kiss my staff.”

As Larry delayed, (Name) murmured, “I don't think I softened your father's temper very much,” she breathed.

“Give him time,” Ahkmenrah soothed gently. “He'll love you, once he has the chance. I don't know anyone who wouldn't.”

Larry's voice interrupted them, “Is it okay if I don't?”

Merenkahre seemed offended, “You will show respect,” he declared. Larry tried to speak, but he continued, “I am the descendant of Ra, the sun god.”

Larry scrambled to find his footing in the conversation, “I understand that, and I totally respect you. I just don't pray to Ra, so—”

The older pharaoh seemed to be getting more offended by the moment, “The Egyptian gods are the only true gods.”

Larry, however, was standing his ground, “Well, we try to stay a little more open-minded.” He paused, as Merenkahre turned, in disbelief, to his son, who was merely smiling and shaking his head, apparently trying to persuade his father to listen...or not continue with his stubbornness, “I mean, Sacagawea, she honors her spiritual ancestors...and you pray to some sort of goat god, Attila, right?” When Attila nodded, he turned back to Merenkahre, hoping it wouldn't further destroy their chances. “I'm half-Irish, half-Jewish—”

Merenkahre's entire countenance changed, “You are? I love Jews!” Even Shepseheret's face had lit up again, “We owned forty thousand of them!”

(Name)'s face darkened when Shepseheret spoke, though she knew that...well, they hadn't had time to learn and change as their son had, “Such lovely people.”

Ahkmenrah seemed embarrassed, “Here we go.”

“They were _very_ happy, always singing with the candles,” Merenkahre continued.

Larry, deathly serious, spoke, “Yeah. They really weren't happy.”

“Really?” Shepseheret seemed genuinely surprised.

“No. They left,” Larry said blankly. “They spent about forty years in the desert trying to escape,” he explained.

At least, (Name) thought, Shepseheret seemed slightly apologetic, “Oh!”

“Yeah. We have dinner once a year and talk about it,” he went on, trying not to offend Ahkmenrah, but not happy about the mistreatment of his ancestors. He knew the younger pharaoh had changed his mind about things, but his parents hadn't had time, and he tried to keep that in mind, but it was a terrible thing, in the end. “It's a big deal for us,” he added. Still, he paused, and finally, he circled back to his point, “Listen, could you take a look at that tablet? There's something wrong with it.”

Ahkmenrah handed the tablet to his father, and he took the staff out of his hand when it was passed to him carefully. Shepseheret put Evan down and leaned in, wringing her hands, and little Evan went to his mother, reaching for her hand. She took it, and the little one reached, too, for his father, clutching his robe tightly; Ahkmenrah's hands were occupied with the staff.

Merenkahre pressed the different tiles on the tablet and tilted it back and forth, his expression growing darker, “It's losing its power.”

Larry spoke, “Do you think you could fix it?”

The older pharaoh pulled the tablet in toward him, his eyes narrowing at the night guard, “To do that, I would have to divulge the secret of the tablet.”

Larry, at a loss, glanced between the three Egyptians, “I promise we won't tell anybody.”

“No.”

Larry paused, and spoke, reluctantly, “I'll kiss your staff.”

Merenkahre pulled the tablet back toward him again, “Too late.”

The visiting exhibits bowed their heads and looked at each other, and Ahkmenrah couldn't take it anymore, stepping toward his father, “Father, why do you insist on keeping this to yourself?” (Name) didn't miss the trembling in his voice; she knew he worried that his father didn't trust him, didn't have faith in him. She reached out, with her free hand, and touched his shoulder, just once, her expression worried.

Merenkahre spoke quickly, “The secret was to be passed down to you at the proper time,” he declared.

(Name) nearly rolled her eyes, and Ahkmenrah seemed to read her mind, “Well, it has been...four-thousand years. Now seems like a good time,” he said, and she detected a certain sassiness beneath it.

She was surprised that he got away with it, because, at last, Merenkahre relented, reaching out to touch his son's cheek softly, patting it twice. He, at last, divulged the tale of Ahkmenrah's birth and the secret of the tablet; it was forged under the god of the moon, Khonsu, and needed his light to survive. “It's been away from Khonsu's light too long,” he declared.

Without warning, the tablet, once more, began to glow an ugly green, and Ahkmenrah, this time, seemed to suffer most; his eyes lost focus and his skin began to crack and fade and sink in. He seemed breathless and stumbled backward, the staff barely keeping him in place, and Shepseheret circled her husband to grab desperately at her son.

(Name), too, reacted; she dashed behind her lover and wrapped her arms around him from behind to keep him from falling, gasping his name, “Ahk, Ahk, you've got to stay with me, love,” she said, tears coming to her eyes. “Stay with Evan. Please,” she begged, clutching him tighter.

Merenkahre dropped all pretenses and went to Larry, giving him the tablet, “It needs moonlight, otherwise, we shall all be dead by sunrise,” he said desperately, and pointed out of their exhibit, “Hurry! If the tablet dies, nothing can bring it back!”

Evan tugged on his father's robe, “Daddy? Daddy!”

The little boy didn't know the truth, but seeing his father like that seemed to be enough to send him in to absolute, shrieking panic; the dinosaur and the snakes were frightening enough, and Evan had done astoundingly well with those, but to see his father's condition was far too much. As Larry sprinted away, Sacagawea ran forward, collecting the little boy from the floor and pressing him in to her shoulder, trying to stop his crying and screaming.

(Name)'s heart was torn; she needed to take care of her husband, but she knew Larry needed help, too; the pieces had to be straightened. “My love, I'm going to help Larry...the sooner it's fixed, the sooner you're better. Don't let Evan out of your sight,” she breathed to the others, and paused just long enough to touch Sacagawea's shoulder.

She sprinted after Larry, tears rolling down her face, and heard her son calling to her, but she knew what she had to do; she had to help fix the tablet. She stood at Larry's side, helping straighten the pieces, but when their moonlight was interrupted, she felt something sharp at the back of her neck, and heard gasping sobs.

She was terrified to move, but Larry's wide eyes told her enough. “What are you doing?” It was Larry's unsteady voice.

“The tablet. Now.” She recognized Lancelot's voice, too.

“I knew I should've broken your nose,” she growled.

“Ah, but you won't lay a hand on me now,” he said, and he ripped the object out of Larry's hand; (Name) turned the second he was distracted by his prize.

Her heart dropped in to her feet as Nick caught up with them, and she saw that Lancelot had her son in one arm, his dagger so huge that it could have cut off the child's head; he'd warned the little boy not to cry, but he hadn't quite been able to help it.

“You hurt my son and I will rend you limb from limb, bastard,” she hissed, eyes narrowed.

“Oh, I have no interest in hurting babies...but he'll keep any one of you from laying a finger on me,” he said simply, tucking the tablet under one of his arms. “Precious child...I'm betting his father would _gladly_ give the tablet in exchange for his son's safe return.”

“Wait! Listen to me, that thing is dying,” Larry tried, knowing that (Name) must have been out of her mind by this point; her son was in danger, even if Lancelot said he wouldn't hurt the boy. “Okay? If it doesn't get moonlight...everything ends, like, for real,” he said, urgent.

“King Arthur wasted years searching for the Holy Grail,” Lancelot said, oblivious. “To think it was a tablet all along.”

(Name) burst out, “Would you just give it to me!? You don't know what you're doing!” It was desperation and fear and anger, all wrapped up together, and she _needed_ her son back in her arms; the child looked fearful. “Give me my son and the tablet and I won't behead you. I'm sure there's a guillotine here somewhere.”

Lancelot didn't care, “My quest is complete. I ride for Camelot tonight,” he said, still brandishing his dagger.

“Alright, just keep it, okay? But just put it in the moonlight and turn that center piece,” Larry begged, shouting.

“Sorry,” Lancelot said, “not my first quest.” He dropped Evan out of his arms and (Name) dove for the child, catching him in her arms and sobbing, clutching the little boy to her chest desperately as Lancelot sprinted away, shouting some insult to Larry over his shoulder.

Larry turned to his son, “Go get the others,” he said hastily, and then leaned down, tugging at (Name), “We can't let him leave the building!” Nick dashed away, but (Name) was curled in a ball around her baby.

“Dammit,” he swore, and he ran away as fast as he could.

The others caught up to (Name) and Ahkmenrah dropped to his knees, “(Name), love, it's okay, we're here,” he said softly. “What happened?”

(Name) explained, haltingly, the brief encounter, clutching her son as tightly as she physically could, and for once, the boy didn't complain. Sacagawea went pale, “(Name), I am so sorry...he jumped from my arms the moment you began to run, I thought he would have caught up to you,” she confessed, looking distressed.

(Name) shook her head, “It's not your fault.” She said, breathing hard, “But when I get my hands on that bastard he'll wish he was just a fairy tale tonight,” she growled.

“Mama, I thought you said you shouldn't curse,” Evan pried.

“Mama will curse when someone deserves it and I will make him suffer for laying even one finger on you, baby. No one gets between a mother and her child and he's going to learn that lesson tonight,” she hissed.

She got to her feet and dashed down the hallway faster than ever, Evan held tightly in her arms, and the others fought to keep up with her; it seemed she was a mother bear and Lancelot had touched her cub, and she wasn't going to back down.

They went separate ways through the museum, but all turned up empty at a crossing, despite their best efforts. Ahkmenrah, especially, seemed to be growing weaker and weaker, and (Name) ducked beneath his arm, forcing him to use her as support. When Larry handed out destinations, she turned to Shepseheret, tears in her eyes, “Ma'am, will you take Evan? I can't...I can't take him with me,” she breathed. “I can't take care of both of them, and Ahkmenrah needs me more than Evan does.”

The older woman knew what (Name) was saying, but Evan didn't; Evan didn't understand at all, “But Mama! Mama, I want to go with you and Daddy!”

“Baby, I'm sorry, but it's too dangerous, and I won't let that awful man anywhere near you again,” she said, tears rolling down her face. “And Daddy's very sick, and Mama needs to take care of him. So I need you to go with Grandma, okay?” She kissed her son's forehead, squeezing him tightly, “Will you please go with Grandma and Grandpa, and be a very, very good boy?”

Evan struggled with the idea, “You're going to come back with Daddy?”

“I promise, baby. I'll bring Daddy back, and you can ride around on my back for the rest of the night. I haven't given you a piggy-back in a long time, so I promise you'll get one when we get back, okay?”

The little boy still seemed reluctant, so (Name) reached down to her hand, and she tugged a ring from her finger, “Baby, I'm going to come back for this. It was your grandmama's, and it is very, very important to her, so I want you to take very good care of it, okay? Mama's going to come and get it later.”

The little boy took the ring from her, and reluctantly, he reached out for his grandmother; she took him before he could change his mind, giving a knowing nod, and took the child back to the Egyptian wing with her husband, knowing they couldn't let the little boy out of their sight for even half a second.

Ahkmenrah thanked his wife as they watched his parents take the little boy away, and at last, with his arm draped over her shoulder, and hers around his waist for support, they went with Teddy to try and prevent Lancelot's escape.

It was too late.

**_ End Chapter _ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I realize that, in the movie, Nicky was the one Lancelot threatened, but I feel Evan would be an easy target, compared to a nearly grown man, and while I don't think Lancelot is truly a terrible character, he's one of my least favorites...yet I don't think he would ever truly hurt a child. Yet, I think, to Larry and (Name), even if they were sure he wouldn't, the risk of a dagger at Evan's neck is just too much of a risk, so...yeah, anyway.
> 
> Now, if this chapter was exciting, the next will be heart-wrenching, so be mentally bracing yourself for that in the near future.
> 
> Anyway, thank you all for reading, and, as always, comments, questions, suggestions, and constructive criticism are gladly (and thankfully!) appreciated.
> 
> **_I will be leaving on a vacation on April ninth._** This means I'll be unable to post new chapters, as...well, I'm an old lady that hates trying to type on a laptop (coughcough), but it doesn't mean I'm abandoning the work. I'll be gone for a little over a week, but when I return, I assure you that you'll have a new chapter. In the mean time, if you have comments or questions, feel free to submit them; I _do_ have a cell phone I can use, as it wouldn't be typing up nine-plus pages of text, and I shall do my best to answer any I feel that need it.


	12. Chapter Twelve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  ** _DISCLAIMER:_** I do **NOT** own _Night at the Museum_ , or any of its contents, characters, actors, ideas...or anything at all related to it. I never have, and I never will. This is written for fun. I’m dirt poor, so sorry. This is for my entertainment and for those who read this.
> 
> I also don't own anything remotely recognizable in the story; music, devices, brand names or anything; if you recognize it, I don't own it. I make nothing off of anything. None of my works provide me a profit. Basically, **_I own absolutely nothing._** Point blank.
> 
> You guys are amazing. Thank you for all your comments and kudos, and all your continued support. Truly, it's just...amazing, and I feel so lucky to have people enjoy this.
> 
> Thank you.
> 
> Now, this is the final chapter I will post before I go on vacation, so it's just a little longer than the others, as a little treat and as part of my thanks.
> 
> Without further ado (unless you want to grab a tissue or two, as you may need it!), the new chapter.

**_ Chapter Twelve _ **

Lancelot escaped as Tilly, the night guard for the museum, locked Larry and Laaa in a room, and (Name) felt her heart growing cold. Her husband was strong, as he was holding on, despite his weakness; he could barely stand on his own, and in moments when she had to let go of him, he braced himself on his own knees. His physical strength was failing, and the color had faded from his skin; he looked pale and worn and aged.

Even still, and perhaps even because of it, (Name) remained at his side, despite her fear and growing hopelessness. She helped him, with great care, descend the steps outside the museum, forcing him to lean all his weight on her; he needed to spare every ounce of strength he could, and she feared he didn't truly have even a drop left.

As they waited outside, Teddy and Sacagawea waiting for Larry at the top of the stairs, she curled her arms around his waist and pressed herself in to him. “You don't have to come,” she breathed. “You...you're not...you can barely walk.”

“Evan is with my mother and father. If this is to be the last moment I have, I would spend it with one I love,” he said softly. “And Evan should not remember me as a corpse,” he said, trying his dark humor.

“I won't let you go,” she said in a gasp, tears welling in her eyes. “I won't.” She pressed closer to him, her arms tightening a little, “You're frozen, Ahk.”

He blinked at her, looking dazed, “Am I?”

She shook, “You don't feel it?”

“I...am afraid I feel very little,” he confessed reluctantly. “I feel tired, and weak, and I am not quite sure that the tablet is strong enough to do more than give me breath. I fear it may be devoting its last power to my heart and missing lungs,” he said slowly.

Her hands climbed to his throat and he felt them tremble on his skin, but her fingers pressed in to his neck, beneath his jaw, and she shook again, “Your heart is barely beating.”

He gave a sigh and leaned in to her, “We don't have long,” he said softly. “Might I ask you a terrible favor?”

“Anything,” she said, trying her hardest not to cry. “So long as you don't start saying goodbye.”

“No, my love. If I shall do that, it will be my final breath, for I could not bear it otherwise,” he said gently, a promise. “When he was little, did you ever sing to Evan?”

“Yes,” she said softly, “Though I think it was for me, too. Music was always my most reliable medicine.”

He smiled at that; it seemed fitting. It suited her. “Would you sing to me, (Name)? My body is nearly numb, but I think your voice would help my nerves,” he murmured.

She blushed, and he felt the faint rush of heat; a little miracle. She was quiet for a moment, but at last, she wrapped him in her arms tightly, leaning her head against his, and put her lips near his ear. “A lullaby, then, for your nerves,” she breathed. “A piece of my family for you. My mother taught it to me. It always soothed Evan...”

He felt her take a deep breath, and he closed his eyes to listen. It was nonsensical, but it was soft, and her voice was sweet, and its rhythm was soothing. He knew his want was childish, but at that moment, he was as helpless as a child, and he had not been able to be with his wife and son when lullabies and rocking were important. He could imagine her singing it to their son in the middle of the night, when the little boy couldn't sleep, rocking him in her arms, and the image was a comfort, a world away from the fear stealing his breath.

_Hum dum dandee_  
_Tootie fruity_  
_Hum dum dandee_  
_Little boy..._

_Mama loves you_  
_Yes she does_  
_Mama loves you_  
_Little boy..._

_Hum dum dandee_  
_Tootie fruity_  
_Hum dum dandee_  
_Little boy..._

_Here you are now_  
_Safe and so~ound_  
_Here you are now_  
_Little boy..._

_Hum dum dandee_  
_Tootie fruity_  
_Hum dum dandee_  
_Little boy..._

_Mama's got you_  
_And she'll keep you_  
_Mama's got you_  
_Little boy..._

_Hum dum dandee_  
_Tootie fruity_  
_Hum dum dandee_  
_Little boy..._

_Mama loves you_  
_Yes she does_  
_Mama loves you_  
_Little boy..._

It was a song that was nearly hummed; it was low and soft and comforting, and as childish as he felt, it soothed him. He was no child, yet he felt safe in her arms, and even in his weakness, he would fight to remain at her side. She was giving her all to him, for him, and he would fight to stay; he wanted to stay with his wife, with his son. He couldn't make her come back to this place and tell their son that he was gone.

He couldn't.

He gave her a soft little sigh and nuzzled her neck, “Your voice is so beautiful, my love,” he murmured.

She laughed, but he heard the strain in her; she was scared. “Then I'll have to sing you all sorts of music from here on,” she said, trying to keep her strength. “Though I think Evan would protest. He says I put him to sleep.”

The pharaoh chuckled, “With that melody, I imagine you knock him out in a moment,” he said, teasing. “If I knew how to sleep, I'm quite certain you would have put me out.”

She squeezed him, laughing, “Is that an insult, or a compliment?”

“The latter,” he said, pressing his grin in to her neck. “Your mother's lullaby is soothing.”

“Mm. She said her mother made it up for her. She had nightmares, so Grandmama made up that little song when she was nearly asleep herself.” She gave a soft chuckle, “Maybe that's why half of it is humming.”

Ahkmenrah didn't get the chance to reply, but even as Larry spoke, he had to admit his gratefulness for the distraction; speaking with (Name) about mothers and lullabies was far easier than considering how they would catch Lancelot, “Everybody okay?”

Teddy, who'd been waiting for them, was the swiftest to answer. “Yes, Lawrence.” They headed down the stairs, “Attila and your boy secured the lady guard in her booth. I don't know how long it'll hold her, though.”

“Alright, we gotta find Lancelot, but somebody has to make sure she doesn't get out.” Larry's mannerisms were hurried again, and he looked around, unwilling to assign someone to stay; this affected them all.

Laaa squawked and raised his hand.

Larry paused, but agreed, “Yeah. Laaa, okay.” He moved toward the caveman, “Alright. You know what you have to do?”

The caveman raised his hands as though pressing and holding a door, “Stay!”

Larry nodded, “That's right. Just make sure she stays in there.” Laaa repeated the gesture, and Larry confirmed, “Good! Go!” The strange figure toddled off, then, muttering under his breath, and Larry turned to the others quickly.

“Lawrence!” It was Teddy's alarmed cry, “I can't move my arms. We're becoming less useful by the minute,” he lamented.

Attila let out a cry and fell to his knees, and the other exhibits gave gasps; Ahkmenrah nearly collapsed out of his lover's arms, barely able to keep his grip on her, but Attila had no one, so Larry grabbed him, gasping in alarm, and Nick, too; they helped him to his feet carefully. “Come on, big guy,” Larry encouraged, tugging the giant of a man back to his feet. He struggled to open his eyes, and Larry felt panic rise higher, but he knew he had to keep his head on straight; he, Nick, and (Name) were the only ones physically unaffected by the tablet. “What? You okay there?” His panic still seeped out in his speech, but he was trying to control it, “Huh?” Attila finally managed to get his eyes open, but...well, it didn't look good. “Okay...something's up with your eye, but—” The Hun was instantly concerned, and asked a question. “I don't know. It's just kind of going...” Larry pointed.

As he panicked and Larry tried to calm him, (Name) took it upon herself to draw Ahkmenrah, carefully, around her; she tugged him in to leaning on her as much as he was physically able, and, if not for his robes, she might have carried him on her back, if he had let her. “Okay?”

He nodded slowly, “I fear I might wear you out before the night is done,” he said, trying to tease.

“I'd carry you, if you'd let me, you know,” she said, not able to joke at that moment.

He smiled at her soothingly, and he leaned in, kissing her temple, “I am well aware, my love, but if I am that useless, I would rather you leave me.”

“Never,” she promised.

Nick offered a foul statement, “Dad, there's like, eight million people in this city.” He glanced, reluctantly, at Ahkmenrah, looking pained, “He could be literally anywhere by now.”

Larry, out of all of them, seemed the most hopeful, “Well find him,” he promised. “We have to,” he said, interrupting Nick's thought of protest.

Larry led them in the direction he remembered seeing the knight go, and Sacagawea took the lead as soon as they hit the street—her sharp eyes and tracking experience were their best hope, and (Name) helped her husband as they followed the woman; their outfits were drawing attention, but they had no time to dawdle.

The Shoshone woman knelt at a wet newspaper; London's streets were soaked from its nearly-continual rain, and it seemed luck was on their side—the newspaper had a horse's print in it, and Sacagawea managed to derive what they needed from it.

That, however, was not their only clue; a woman's shriek echoed from nearby, joined by roars, and as chaos seemed the norm for the exhibits, they instantly followed the sound across the street.

Giant lions were approaching them as they headed down several sets of stairs, and (Name) nearly knocked her husband over when she stopped, gripping him so that he wouldn't fall; the snake was one thing. Giant, metal lions...that weren't attached to anything? She'd had her fill of insanity for the night.

But Teddy advised, quickly, “Never run from a big cat, Lawrence.”

That was probably sound advice, (Name) admitted, but she could still feel the fear climbing her spine.

It was, however, the tiniest of them that saved the day—it seemed that watching cat videos every night had stuck in Jedidiah's mind, for he spoke, “Gigantor, get your flashlight out! These cats wanna play!” He cheered in his traditional manner when Larry managed to free his flashlight from his belt.

Amazingly, the light tricked the cats in to pouncing each other, wrestling and rolling across the concrete sidewalk, and it allowed the others a moment to think—the tablet had clearly come through the area. But where would he have gone from there?

Larry spotted their saving grace—an advertisement for _Camelot: The Classic Musical_ on the side of a double-decker bus. “Come on!” He led them to the bus itself, and he and (Name) managed to find enough money to pay for the group's ride to the theatre.

They climbed to the back, and Ahkmenrah nearly collapsed in to the seat when (Name) eased him on to it, and sat at his side, pressed in to the corner of the bus. Larry was on his other side, and then Teddy, and Sacagawea, and on the seat lining the side, Attila and Nick managed to barely fit; they needed to be together, simply for relying on each other, as weak as they were becoming.

Two children stared at them openly, turned fully around in their seats, barely under the definition of gaping. Of course, they were quite a picture; four historical figures, a monkey, and a man in uniform, as well as two tiny figures, gripping a rail behind Larry and Teddy. Jedidiah didn't seem very content with the staring, “We're just as God made us,” he tried, when Larry's casual greeting hadn't distracted them. But that didn't work, either, so he spoke again, “Why don't'cha take a picture? It'll last longer!”

The girl took him up on the offer and snapped one, and Larry gave a semi-helpless _why_ gesture with his hands. (Name)'s hand gripped tighter on her husband's, and she held her breath. He was looking worse by the moment, but she tried to deny it.

Thankfully, the bus ride wasn't long, but it seemed that damage was already being done; a flood of shocked and horrified people were streaming out of the theatre and they had to fight the tide of the crowd to even get inside. “Lancelot!” It was Larry, calling over the heads of the fleeing people, “Lancelot!”

The night stole a torch from the display on the stage and headed off the side, and (Name) put Ahkmenrah before her, pressing him close behind Larry so that he wouldn't meet as much resistance from the crowd. They made it to the stage, and a...familiar voice said, disappointed, “Oh, yeah, no, come on up.” (Name) took a second glance and nearly stumbled in her shock. “Yep, come on up! Bring them up— Oh, monkeys. Terrific,” he muttered. “I love the costumes.”

Larry doubled back and burst out of the crowd, “Sorry. I just gotta say, you're the whole package, man,” he said, wide-eyed, and out of breath.

(Name) nodded numbly, “Genuinely, you're amazing,” she managed, not finding better words. After all, she'd never met a celebrity before, let alone one of such high caliber.

The man gave a nod and a thanks, and Larry sprinted back through the way Lancelot had gone, and (Name) trailed after everyone else; Ahkmenrah was too weak to walk on his own by now, and she had to help him on each step.

She heard Larry yelling in front of them, “Hey! Give me the tablet!”

“Stay back! Stay back,” Lancelot shouted, brandishing the torch he'd stolen. “Stand back!” he yelled, waving it right at Larry, and the man stumbled back with a shout. “Back!” The others, however, were just _staring_ at him, and Lancelot, as stupid as he might have been, didn't miss that, “What?”

The others groaned, but (Name) bit out words, supporting her husband as they approached the railing, “Your nose is as ugly as your black heart, bastard,” she hissed.

“What's wrong with my nose?” The question was defensive.

Larry tried to speak, but (Name)'s fury had returned, “It's melting. Dripping. I hope it falls off in that fire,” she hissed at him, eyes narrowed.

The knight turned and put it out, but he drew his sword instantly, screaming in his horror. He pointed the sword at Larry, “How bad is it?”

Larry, again, didn't have the chance to speak, “I've seen photos of victims of the black plague with better facial structure. It suits you,” she barked. 

“What did I do to you?” He had done what he could to ignore her, but she was vicious.

“You threatened my son, and if you don't return that tablet, you'll take my husband from me, and I will stand for neither,” she said, straightening. “No one lays a hand on my son. No one. I will happily get the other torch and melt you to a misshapen puddle of shame,” she threatened. “Give that tablet to Larry or you will face all the wrath of a protective mother with no qualms about killing a fictional character,” she hissed.

“...A fictional character?”

“That's right. You're a story-book knight thought up in some guy's mind,” she said, bluntly.

“I don't understand!”

Larry, before (Name) could do further damage, forced his way in, “I know it's a lot to take in, but please, just give me the tablet,” he begged.

Ahkmenrah gently took his wife's shoulder, gripping her gently when she looked ready to storm down the small set of stairs and rip the knight's head from his shoulders. “And then what? Back to the museum?” He brandished his sword again, “Stand there as little children ogle and point?”

Teddy darted down the stairs, “And learn, and get inspired to do great things,” he injected, his voice rich with joy; he loved that about the museum, even if he wasn't alive to see it during the day. “There are far less noble fates, my friend,” he offered, smiling; Sacagawea looked proud at his side.

“Not for me, there aren't!”

“And what are you!?” It was (Name), yelling, “What are you to these men? Teddy led a country in a time of turmoil and brought it out the better. Attila took over countries and led his people in to the wide world,” she said, glaring at him, “And my husband ruled a nation in peace and prosperity in his youth, only to be murdered by his own brother,” she said fiercely. “Who are you? What is so special that you are any better than true makers of history?” She growled at him, “A knight does not think of himself. A knight protects those who are in need. A knight fights for what is right,” she said. “And you are no knight. You are stealing the life from a father who has a son desperately wanting to see him again,” she cried. “You are a foul excuse for a human being and if those inspired by your legend saw you on this night, the world would weep,” she hissed.

The tablet, as though sensing her desperation and rage, began to turn again; the green stain crept higher and higher, and (Name) felt Ahkmenrah give way in her arms. She turned to him, ignoring the screams of pain from the others, and saw his skin fading and darkening, drawing in, cracking. His eyes began to turn glassy and his features shrunk, and his strength was gone.

Her heart stopped, and all that came from her mouth was a scream; it was his name, mangling her throat as it escaped, shredding through her until she was holding him, crying so hard that she might have vomited, if her senses had not been entirely occupied with her husband; she knew nothing else.

He pawed at her, his hands numb, but he held on to her as best he could, “I love you, (Name).”

“Oh, no. No. You're not going to leave me now,” she said, tears racing down her face, “I won't let you. I won't. I won't.”

His cracked lips tried to smile, “Tell Evan I love him, little queen.”

“No. No, no, no. No,” she gasped, sobbing, “I won't. You have to tell him,” she gasped, gripping him, clutching him; she couldn't let him go, she couldn't let this happen, and her body shook violently with her sobs.

Larry, meanwhile, was pleading desperately with Lancelot; he could hear (Name) crying behind him, and he had seen the pharaoh's face drawing in already. If he didn't act, if he couldn't fix it, right then, it was over, and he couldn't bear it. When the knight finally handed over the tablet, saying something utterly ridiculous, after each exhibit lost the energy and life it granted, Larry straightened the pieces and lifted his head, staring at the moon, and despite his own religion, just once, he prayed to one Egyptian god—Khonsu.

The clouds parted and light struck the tablet and it began to glow golden again, and Larry dared not hope, yet, that it was truly fixed, until he heard a rattling, raspy breath behind him, and turned to see Ahkmenrah standing, lifting his wife in his arms and kissing her with every ounce of love he had.

The others gathered around Larry, and Dexter clutched the night guard, refusing to even move out of the way for the hugs each exhibit gave.

But (Name) was still staring at her husband, her lips trembling, “Ahk?”

He smiled at her, and he cupped her cheeks, “Still alive,” he soothed, and then a wry smile found his lips. “Until dawn, at least,” he teased.

She was shaking, and she let her hands wander his face; his color had returned and his skin was smooth and soft again, and she could feel the stout muscles of his arms, and the warmth of his flesh. When it finally settled in, she cried his name, throwing herself at him and kissed him as fiercely as he had her, tears streaming down her face, and she said his name, over and over, clutching him in her arms.

But she realized, suddenly, what it must mean, and she gave a soft apology to the king; she turned and leaped the length of the stairs and thudded in to Larry with enough force that he nearly fell, but he laughed. “Hey, hey, it's okay,” he said. “I don't want your husband after my head for treason, or something,” he joked.

She held on to him for a long moment, and he gave her a hug, at last, when he realized she wasn't letting go. “I owe you, Larry...probably more than my life, but I owe you,” she said softly, and he saw her eyes shining with tears. “Thank you. Truly, thank you so much,” she breathed, hugging him again.

Ahkmenrah joined them a moment later, a wide grin on his face, and Larry nodded to him, “I wouldn't have done anything else. I couldn't,” he said, and finally, the young woman set him free. He turned to Ahkmenrah, next, and the pharaoh gave him an enormous hug, too, but Larry handed him the tablet, smiling, “Here's your tablet.”

Ahkmenrah hugged him once more, and he turned to (Name), showing her that, indeed, the green stain was gone, and the tablet was glowing and golden once more, as bright as ever, and he drew her in to him. “It seems you're stuck with me,” he said softly.

She shook her head, and stood on her toes, finding his lips, “I would never want to be anywhere else,” she murmured. “I think I've had enough frights for one lifetime...I don't suppose you'd mummify me now, would you?”

He blinked, and then he laughed, and he gathered her in to his arms, “I somehow doubt that Evan would appreciate that,” he said softly, but he held on to her. “But if you intend to spend eternity at my side, I would gladly have you there,” he offered, kissing her gently.

The others, it seemed, were willing to forgive Lancelot, and at length, they returned to the museum. (Name) refused to let the knight even approach the Egyptian wing, and she, though feeling exhausted and weak, went in with Ahkmenrah first; Evan bolted away from the two Egyptians and jumped at his father so fiercely that he barely had time to pass the tablet to (Name), and the child nearly squeezed the breath out of him.

“Daddy?”

“I'm okay, Evan,” he soothed instantly, reaching up to stroke his son's hair. “Daddy's all better,” he said gently.

The child felt his father's face and looked him over for many long moments, but at last, the little one clutched at him, “I was scared you were gonna leave me, Daddy. You won't, will you?”

“I promise, Evan, that I will never, ever leave you,” he swore. “Even if I can only call you, Daddy won't ever leave,” he promised.

The little boy held on to him, “I love you, Daddy.”

“I love you, too,” he breathed, and he felt his son cuddle in to him, in spite of his uncomfortable beads.

“Ahk?” It was (Name), but her voice was faint and thready, and he turned to see her looking pale. “I think I need to...I need...”

Larry, who'd arrived behind the two, saw what was happening; she collapsed. He caught her, as Ahkmenrah had his arms full with his son, and he noted that the woman was clutching the tablet still; she was afraid, still, that something would happen to it.

Ahkmenrah nearly went in to full panic, until Sacagawea told him that it was simply exhaustion. She had been battling emotions for endless days and that night had been the worst, and the Shoshone woman was sure that poor (Name) had reached her limits when she began to accept that her husband and son were safe and sound. “She merely needs rest,” she said gently.

Evan wriggled to let his father know that he wanted down, and though he looked at his mother with worry, he merely held on to Ahkmenrah's robe when he lifted his wife in to his arms, gathering her tiny body against his chest. “Then she shall have it,” he said softly, and he carried her to the nearest bench, placing her limp body on it gently. He reached carefully in to her pocket, and when he found her phone, he dialed it; her mother would need to get her, and Evan, soon. The woman promised to come as quickly as possible, and when the call was over, he stroked his lover's hair out of the way, worried. She seemed beyond exhaustion, and he watched Evan sit on the floor, holding his mother's hand once Ahkmenrah gently freed the tablet from her grasp.

Shepseheret joined them, and she congratulated Ahkmenrah, and she spoke to him quietly; she knew he didn't want to leave his wife, but she wanted to speak with her son.

Merenkahre approached Larry, at last, and he thanked the night guard, speaking softly to him, and when it was done, he approached his son once more.

Ahkmenrah did not miss the quiet murmurs of his companions, though he knew they were trying to keep their discussion secret. He tried to leave them to it, but it was hard, when his attention was scattered.

He was desperately worried about his wife, and he had, despite his parents' closeness, carefully lifted (Name)'s head and taken a seat, propping her on him; the bench had no cushion, and he wanted her comfortable. He gently stroked her hair, tugging it carefully away from her face, brushing aside little strands, and he kept one protective arm over her torso.

After some moments, the others approached, and Sacagawea took the lead with her gentle voice, “Ahk, we know...that, at least right away, you won't be able to come right back with us,” she began, choosing her words carefully, “and we all know that you have much to consider...but we all want to thank you.” Her voice was gentle. “Whatever happens after tonight, we must return to New York, but we all want you to know that we truly appreciate the magic you brought to us,” she murmured.

Ahkmenrah felt that he should be standing, at that moment, but his fear for his wife's health kept him from it. Teddy spoke, next, in a surprisingly soft tone, “And while your choice is yours alone, son, we want you to know that, if you should come back to New York, we would welcome you.”

It took the pharaoh a moment to fully comprehend the implication, and his eyes darted to his parents, and then to the figures he now called family, and then to his wife, and his son. “I admit...that I have longed for my parents,” he said softly, but they saw his hand clutch at (Name)'s shirt suddenly. “But I know that, wherever (Name) is...well, I would follow her to the ends of the earth,” he breathed. “Wherever she and Evan go, I shall follow. That is where my heart belongs,” he said softly.

They all smiled at him, “As it should,” Teddy said gently. “But we wanted you to know that, whatever you do, we'll support you, even if we can't show it.”

The pharaoh breathed a soft sigh, and gave them all a smile. “I thank you all,” he said, the emotion swelling in his voice.

They smiled at him, but they knew they had to go; Ahkmenrah called to Larry, briefly, and when the guard approached, he took his hand. “You have given me back my family, Larry...all of it. I cannot possibly repay you for all you have done,” he breathed, meaning every word. “Thank you, truly, Guardian of Brooklyn,” he said, using the name he had given his friend at their first meeting.

Larry grinned, but there was a sadness in it, and he carefully bent down, giving the pharaoh a brief hug around his wife. He didn't say anything, knowing it would be too difficult, so he merely nodded, and Ahkmenrah understood.

It was only a few moments later that (Name)'s mother rushed in to the Egyptian exhibit, and Evan darted for the woman, grabbing her hand and dragging her toward her unconscious daughter. “Grandmama, Mama's sick! Should we get a doctor?”

The older woman gathered the little boy in to her arms in a quick movement, and she approached her daughter easily; she saw, now, that the pharaoh was with her, and that calmed her nerves. Ahkmenrah looked up at her, however, and he tried to hide the worry in his eyes, but it was a little too clear for his mother-in-law. Carefully, she put her grandson on the floor, and she reached for her daughter's forehead; it was a little warm, but not too severely, and her pulse was a little too fast for her sleep, but it was even, as was her breathing. She crouched before Evan, smiling, “Your mother is just tired, buddy,” she said gently. “She needs to sleep all day tomorrow, I think, so we need to take her to the hotel room, and we'll make sure she rests,” she soothed.

Evan hesitated, but he looked up at Ahkmenrah, “Can you carry Mama? You always carry me, Daddy.”

“A moment,” Merenkahre said, suddenly, and he looked at his son. “You fear for her.”

Ahkmenrah nodded, though it was slowly, “She was...in utter panic, before the tablet was restored. I feared she might make herself sick with the tide of her emotions,” he said softly.

The elder pharaoh considered this for a moment, and he studied his son at length, “Evan was a result of the magic, wasn't he?”

The comment didn't escape the child, but its meaning, at least, soared over his head, and Ahkmenrah was thankful. “Yes.” It was almost too short an answer; his father might think it rude, but he would not disclose any details before his tiny son.

“Then the tablet can heal her,” he said. “She has borne its magic in the past. Khonsu favors her,” he said, seeming more pleased with his surprising daughter-in-law.

Ahkmenrah nearly leaped from his seat at that statement; his only reason not to leap in joy was the exhausted woman using him as a pillow, “How? I have never found such a power in it,” he said softly.

“It has many gifts, my son,” Merenkahre said. “And as her husband, you should be the one to relieve her ailments,” the older man said slowly.

Ahkmenrah was surprised by his father's acceptance of (Name); he could not deny that he thought it would take time for the older man to soften to his wife, but he already seemed to be accepting her. However, he took the tablet, and at his father's instruction, he placed it carefully over her chest, and he laid his hand over the golden object.

His father urged him to offer his praise to Khonsu, and then to pray, and Ahkmenrah did exactly that, and he felt the tablet begin to warm under his palm. The golden light that always awoke the museum exhibits did not rise, this time; instead, the tablet turned silver and glowed softly white; it crawled over his lover's skin slowly, making her flesh a strange, milky white, and her hair turned nearly clear in the glow. It lasted for several minutes, but at last, the strange light retracted, and the tablet returned to its original state.

The dark circles under (Name)'s eyes had vanished, and she looked, somehow, younger than before. His wife was physically older than he was, considering the passing of time and the age of their son, but the magic of the tablet seemed to have pulled the strains of life from her face, and her hair felt softer under his fingers.

Her breathing picked up, and her eyes blinked open slowly; he gave her time as she awakened, keeping his arm safely over her torso, as his father had taken the tablet back. She blinked against the harsh fluorescent lights, giving a groan and covering her eyes, “Did somebody hit me?”

Her mother burst in to laughter, “I've thought about it a few times to now, but you're untouched, as far as I know,” she teased, but she crouched, “Headache?”

“Like bloody murder,” the younger woman groaned. “Seriously, I'm pretty sure Thor and his hammer are bouncing around my brain,” she lamented. “I haven't felt this bad since—”

The sudden silence was the only warning before (Name) had shot from under her husband's arm, frightened, and backed against a wall, and her wide, frantic eyes took in the room and the people in it as she felt the panic rise and clot her throat. She felt sick with the sudden thoughts and surge of emotion, but as she saw the people in the room, she slid down the wall, a quiet whimper on her lips.

When Ahkmenrah went to dart around the bench, her mother took his shoulder gently, “Careful.”

“That foul, loathsome monster...that is what has done this. Is it not?”

“When he dosed her, he did a heck of a job, Pharaoh. She loves you, and I can promise you that, but if she needs time, give her that,” she said gently. “Ask before you touch her for right now. I bet her heart rate is through the roof,” the older woman advised.

Ahkmenrah took this to heart, and he approached his wife, crouching before her, but he didn't touch her. “Little queen, are you alright?” He kept his voice low and soft, worried, but knowing that her mother was right; she was probably fragile at that moment, if the memory of that bastard had come to the top of her mind.

She stiffened, just for a moment, and then she reached for him, surprising him immensely, “Ahk?”

He smiled, and it smoothed the worried edges of his face, softening his expression. When her hands cupped his cheeks, he laid his own, carefully, over them, “Indeed. Are you alright, my queen?”

It took her a moment, but finally, she began to smile, “With you? Always,” she said softly, and he saw her breathing beginning to even out, and that little twist of her lips eased her frightened expression. “I'm sorry,” she said softly. “When I first... When I woke up, I had such a headache I was sick. I don't think I was even so sick with Evan,” she breathed. Her eyes darted over his shoulder, and she saw that her mother had lifted the little boy in to her own arms. 

“You do not need to apologize, my love,” he said sternly. “And should I ever meet him, he will die a death most foul,” he muttered, not loud enough for Evan to hear. “I do not think scorpions are enough.”

She gave a soft laugh at that, but she feathered her thumb over his cheek, “I...um...what happened?” Her voice was soft. “I know we retrieved the tablet after it was fixed and you and Evan are safe, but I feel...I have missed something,” she murmured.

“You fainted,” he explained gently. “I think you were exhausted.”

She thought about that, “You...you were holding Evan, and I just...I felt so...I felt _exhausted_ beyond all reason and I...then...how long was I out?”

“Not long,” he assured. “We used the tablet to heal you.”

She thought this over, “It can...heal?”

“It has many gifts, daughter,” Shepseheret said, and (Name)'s heart skipped a beat. The Egyptian woman had been much softer than Merenkahre, and had seemed to like her instantly, but she had thought that she would wait for Merenkahre's approval; if she remembered correctly, the dynamic was often different in the past.

With Ahkmenrah's help, she found her feet, but she was horribly dizzy; her head was still pounding. “And side-effects, it seems,” she murmured, her hand going to her head.

“Magic has a price, child,” Merenkahre said. “And the greater the magic, the higher the price,” he said, watching his son help the woman on to a bench.

“Makes sense, I suppose,” she muttered, shielding her eyes. “The last time the tablet...let me tell you, I think having a boulder dropped on my stomach probably wouldn't have hurt so much,” she added. “I can at least sleep a migraine off, I think.”

The older pharaoh observed her for a time, and then he nodded, and he turned to (Name)'s mother. He introduced himself, and Shepseheret did the same, and then it was (Name)'s mother's turn. Merenkahre asked the woman to take Evan out of the room, just for a moment, for he needed to speak to his son and his new daughter. When Evan, reluctantly, allowed his grandmother to carry him out of the room, Merenkahre turned to his son, first, “You truly love her,” he said, sounding somewhat awed, and somewhat proud.

“Father, I know I have not appreciated the tablet's power in the past...and I know that it is an incredible gift, to be given life every night...but I would give up eternity to spend a life with her, and with Evan,” he said, meaning it. “I do not know that I knew what a treasure life was until I met her.”

Shepseheret grasped her husband's arm, breathing a soft “oh!” of wonder. Merenkahre observed them for some time more, “And you...” He waited for (Name) to lift her head, though he didn't make her look too high; he could see her shielding her eyes, squinting. “No one is good enough for my son, you should know,” he said distinctly, “But you look at him as his mother looks at me.”

She sat up, with some effort, “I have spent the last several years knowing that no one will ever be good enough for Evan...because I fear that no one could love him as much as I do,” she said softly. “I think it's the same for you,” she murmured, “So that's okay. But what matters is what Ahkmenrah thinks, I must say. You might be his father and a pharaoh, but Ahk is a grown man, even if he's a dead one,” she added, a wry smile on her lips. “If he needs your approval, I won't begrudge him, but so long as he wants me, I intend to stay. If he would give up eternity for me, I would give up life for him,” she claimed. “Whatever your thoughts of me, I can accept them, but my father's family hates me and I have no one but Evan, my mother, and Ahk. You can think what you want...but if Ahk loves me, that's all I need.”

Ahkmenrah wrapped his arms around his wife and drew her tightly in to his side, “You have a ferocity for all your timidity,” he said softly, a little, teasing grin on his lips. “I thought you would murder Lancelot with your bare hands.”

“He threatened Evan. I won't tolerate that. Everyone accepted his apology and forgave him, but he's going to have to fight to earn anything more than reluctant tolerance from me,” she hissed. “There are things I cannot forgive, and to threaten my little boy is one I won't. I still might break his misshapen nose,” she grumbled.

He gathered her in to his side a little tighter, and he pressed his lips to her temple, “My little queen, you are a stout woman...but for tonight, I think you should leave him intact,” he said gently. “You can deal with him tomorrow night,” he assured.

She gave a soft sigh, and she shook her head, “I daresay my wrath will lessen by then, but if he should dare come in the same room as Evan, he had best be on the opposite end of it,” she muttered.

He smiled and kissed her temple again, softly, but Merenkahre seemed to have made up his mind. “Very well. I see that you have both made up your minds,” he said, slowly. “Dawn approaches. Tomorrow night, you must come to see us, (Name),” he declared, distinctly. “You shall bring Evan. He is young, I know, but tomorrow night, you must tell him the truth of his birth, for you all have an important decision to make,” he said, slowly.

Ahkmenrah looked at his father, confused, “Father?”

“The tablet has many gifts, my son. That is all I shall say tonight. Tomorrow, you will understand,” he insisted.

(Name) and Ahkmenrah shared a confused glance, but at last, they both nodded. Ahkmenrah helped his wife to the exit of the museum, and gave her a slow, lingering kiss, “I shall speak with the night guard, so that you may enter tomorrow. Go and rest,” he said softly.

She sighed, and she pressed her head in to his neck gently, placing a little kiss on his pulse; it was reassuring to feel it beating steadily beneath his skin, even if it didn't truly have anything to push through his body. “I hope you're okay with what I said to your father,” she said suddenly.

“I think that was what won him over,” he said, grinning. “It might have offended him, if a lesser woman had said it, but you are my wife. I think he will be a bit softer tomorrow night,” he offered.

She chuckled, “Mm. Well, I know one thing.”

“Hm?”

“You definitely take after your mother,” she teased, and she grinned at him.

He laughed at that, but he lifted his head, pressing his lips against her forehead. “Rest, my love. The tablet might have healed you, but you need sleep.”

She nodded, at last, and she kissed him once, “I love you, Ahk.”

“I love you too, little queen,” he said gently, and he turned to Evan; the little boy had fallen asleep, exhausted, in his grandmother's arms. He softly leaned in to kiss his son's dark hair, “And you, little prince,” he whispered.

The little boy didn't stir, but Ahkmenrah was glad of it; the child needed rest as much as his mother. He turned, at last, to his mother-in-law, and he leaned in to kiss her cheek, “Your daughter is the most incredible woman in all the world,” he breathed, smiling. “Thank you.”

The woman seemed surprised, but she grinned. “Well, I have to agree...but thank you,” she said, smiling. “You love her the way she deserves,” she murmured, smiling. “I promise I'll look after her for the day. I don't want a king after my head,” she teased.

He grinned at her, but he bowed to her, “I thank you,” he said, meaning it.

With a final nod, and a brief kiss between husband and wife, (Name) used her mother's shoulder to help herself outside, and they caught a cab back to the hotel, and Ahkmenrah went to make sure that they would be allowed back the next night.

**_ End Chapter _ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, any tears? I might have cried a little while writing it. Just a tad. -Cough.-
> 
> Also, the little lullaby in the story is, in fact, from my family...as far as I know, because I can't find it _anywhere_ else, I've looked everywhere online, and I've only ever heard my mother and grandmother singing it. I don't remember the whole of it, as I have yet to have children, and have no need to use it, but anyway... It's mostly humming, and it's just a slow little thing, and I think, in all his trouble, Ahk would want comfort, and that would give him another little glimpse at the life he missed as Evan was growing.
> 
> Now, that said, as I mentioned in the first note, this is the final chapter before I go on vacation, so I hope it can tide you over for a little over a week.
> 
> Thank you all for sticking around and reading this; you guys are just amazing, and I want to reach through the screen and hug the lot of you. Your support is amazing and I can't wait to come back, refreshed, and jump back in to the story.
> 
> As always, comments, questions, suggestions, and even constructive criticism are all accepted and appreciated, and as I'll have my cell phone with me, if you have any of the above, I'll be able to respond while I'm gone.
> 
> Thank you all again, and I hope you loved the chapter!


	13. Chapter Thirteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  ** _DISCLAIMER:_** I do **NOT** own _Night at the Museum_ , or any of its contents, characters, actors, ideas...or anything at all related to it. I never have, and I never will. This is written for fun. I’m dirt poor, so sorry. This is for my entertainment and for those who read this.
> 
> I also don't own anything remotely recognizable in the story; music, devices, brand names or anything; if you recognize it, I don't own it. I make nothing off of anything. None of my works provide me a profit. Basically, **_I own absolutely nothing._** Point blank.
> 
> Thank you all for your support; I seem to have gotten a few more kudos and such while I've been gone, and I truly appreciate that.
> 
> Soooo, I have returned from vacation, and managed to finish the chapter last night while I was calming down from the long drive, so here we are, sooner than I expected! I spent entirely too much money while I was gone, but I got a little bit of a tan and have discovered the depths of my love for many things in my absence...and that includes Ahk, so the story is still on, though it may take a little longer between updates, as I'll be writing as I go. For that, I apologize, but I have work and matters at home and...yeah, I've got a lot to deal with. If I could sit around and write all day, I would gladly do so.
> 
> Now! Without making you wait for too much longer than my vacation time, I present the next chapter.
> 
> Enjoy.

**_ Chapter Thirteen _ **

(Name) slept hard; she wasn't sure that she even shifted in her sleep, as she woke up the same way she thought she must have fallen asleep. Her body felt numb, for a moment, but at last, she climbed from bed, noting that her headache was gone, at least. She looked around the room, and noticed, after a moment, that her son and mother weren't there, so she resolved to take a shower; they would surely return shortly.

The shower made her feel better, and she dressed and took care of herself, noticing, when she was finally cognitive, that there was a note on the little table in the room. _Gone for a little sight-seeing and food, (Name). We'll be back in time for you to eat and get to the museum._ Her mother indicated her love, and (Name) was left with a little while to herself. It was such a rare thing that she threw herself on the bed and splayed her limbs out across the entire surface, spending several minutes just taking in the silence of a room to herself.

Usually, Evan or her mother were making noise in the house, or there was a cooking show on the television, or her mother had her music turned up as she made breakfast.

Silence was strange.

But a few minutes was enough; there were days where she wanted to be alone, but she was so accustomed to Evan and her mother being there that it was a foreign concept, and she would admit to herself that she felt lonely without anything to do or someone to talk to; she had brought nothing more than what she'd packed for her visit to New York, and though she had a couple of books in her suitcase, she turned her thoughts to that night.

Merenkahre's words had mystified her from the start; what did he mean, an important decision? She knew, far better than she would admit, that one day, this way of life would be...difficult. With time, she had slowly come to accept that her husband would never age, yet, one day, she would be old, and her son would be a grown man, yet Ahkmenrah would remain ever youthful. It took time to wrap her mind around the idea, but the more time she spent with her husband, even just to speak to him over the phone, had assured her of his feelings; even when she was bent and gray and could barely ascend the stairs to the museum, he would love her.

And maybe, one day, their minds would change.

Time would tell.

But that was not a decision to make. Not that night. She would not change her mind, and she would not take Evan from his beloved father.

And what did he mean, they would have to tell Evan the truth? Evan was too young to understand what had happened. He was too young to tell that a man had forced himself on her and had gotten her pregnant with a child she never wanted. Evan wouldn't understand.

Yet Merenkahre seemed set on the idea that they had to tell the child the whole truth.

She heard soft giggling, suddenly, and a shushing noise, “Evan, Mama might still be asleep. If she is, we can let her sleep just a little while longer,” her mother's voice said, muffled by the door of the room.

“Okay, Grandmama,” he whispered, and (Name)'s heart soared. Her son was precious.

The door beeped, and a low mechanical sound hummed in the room, and then she heard the door swing open, and heard the soft rustling of bags, and she climbed to her feet, “Mom? Need some help?”

“(Name)! I didn't expect you to be awake, honey,” she said.

“It's not been long,” she said, and she stepped around the bed and took some bags from her mother, looking confused, “What on earth have you bought?”

“You'll see!” Her mother's voice was sing-song, but Evan was practically twitching beside her mother, so (Name) leaned down, took the little take-out box from him, and lifted him in to her arms for a hug, grinning. “Hey, buddy.”

“Mama, you slept so long! Are you okay?”

She laughed, “Mama was just really, really tired, buddy. I'm fine now. I've had a shower and everything; good as new!”

“Do we get to go see Daddy tonight, then?”

“We definitely get to see Daddy tonight,” she said, smiling. “What about you, buddy? Did you sleep well?”

“I slept all day, Mama! Grandmama woke me up so we could get some food. She said you'd be hungry,” he said, grinning.

“I am! What did you bring me?”

The little boy devoted all his attention to his mother, sitting at the table with her while she ate, and seemed genuinely concerned that she wasn't well; it seemed the night before had truly frightened him. So she took her time and spoke to him, letting him climb in her lap, and she used her phone to read him a fairy tale while they had some time; she knew physical contact would reassure him.

Before they left, (Name)'s mother offered the younger woman a bag, “Put it on.”

“Mom, you didn't—”

“If you need to impress the in-laws, honey, you need to look the part. I get the old man's position, but my daughter is a queen, even if she wasn't married to a king,” she said, grinning. “Besides, I think Ahk would appreciate it, too.”

Reluctantly, she stepped in to the little bathroom off the hotel room, and inside was a beautiful dress; it fit her perfectly. It was made of soft materials, and its colors flattered her, and she found another, small bag inside the first. It held a layered necklace that curled close around her throat and had dozens of strands hanging from it, with tiny, glistening gems at the ends. A few bracelets were inside, too, and she pulled those on; they jangled softly around her wrist, and (Name) took just a little extra time to put on her makeup. Her mother was right; she should look the part...and act it, if she wanted to keep judgment to a minimum. Merenkahre would never approve, she was sure, but she could do her best, for her husband.

The final item in the bag was a set of earrings to match the necklace, and once she'd put those on, she stepped in to the main room, and her mother fussed with the jewelry for a moment, and smoothed out her hair, before giving a grin, “You might kill Ahk, but I think his dad might favor you a little more,” she teased.

“You shouldn't have spent this money on me, Mom,” she insisted, shaking her head.

“Oh, I've been saving up a pretty penny to see my daughter wed one day. I'm not sure I'll ever get to see you in a wedding dress, so I can spoil you once in a while,” she offered, grinning. When her daughter made to protest again, she shook her head, “No excuses! Now, it's time for you to go,” she said gently. “Let's get your coat. You don't want to make him wait, do you?”

(Name) couldn't help but smile, though she was flustered. Her mother was stubborn, but she was also the sweetest woman she knew. She spoiled her, had always spoiled her, and (Name) knew that she would be lost without her mother. She gave the woman a fierce hug, “I love you, Mom.”

“Oh, sweetheart, I love you, too,” she said, squeezing her daughter in return. “Now. Off we go! I know Merenkahre didn't invite me, but I'd rather be there, just in case. I'll wait in another room, but if you need me, I'd rather be there. I can always explore the museum,” she teased, grinning.

(Name) laughed, but she let her mother help her in to a long, warm coat, and then took Evan's hand. They left shortly, and made it to the museum at dusk; the sun was on the verge of setting, and (Name) went to the guard booth, looking to see if the night guard was in yet. She found the blonde getting ready to lock everything up; she had keys in her hand and was double-checking the shack for her needs. “Excuse me, miss,” (Name) said softly, holding her son's hand tightly.

The guard nearly leaped from her skin, but turned, eyes narrowed, before she sighed. “You're (Name)?”

(Name) seemed surprised, but she nodded, slowly, “Yes.”

“Right. Come with me, then,” she said. “I can't believe I'm taking orders from a—”

“King, and those are pretty hard to deny,” (Name) said quickly, scowling.

The guard eyed her, and then her son, and then back, “He doesn't...?”

“He will, later, but at the moment, no,” she said slowly.

“Good luck with that,” she said sourly.

(Name) gave a heavy sigh, seeing that the woman, as she suspected, was a bit sour about her job...but (Name) was sure that was going to change on that night. “You'll need it more. I suggest, at sunset, finding someone who can speak English. You'll need the help,” she offered.

“What do you...?”

“The whole museum will wake up, miss,” she said. “And believe me, there are some that are a little more rowdy than others,” she said. “The dinosaur skeleton and the Xiangliu will give you trouble, and I imagine there's a lot more than that, but I didn't see much of the museum last night,” she murmured.

The guard hesitated, but opened the back door reluctantly, “You're not joking, are you?”

“No,” she said softly. “Just...uh...remember, deep breaths.”

The guard paused, but nodded, “...Thanks. I'm Tilly, by the way,” she said.

“Nice to meet you,” she said, feeling a little better with the woman softening to her. “If you need a lot of help, I suggest the Egyptian wing,” she offered, but she saw, suddenly, a burst of light in the small room; it seemed Ahkmenrah hadn't been moved, yet, and (Name)'s heart leaped. Her mother took the child and drew him to her, so that he couldn't see, and (Name) helped Ahkmenrah climb out of his sarcophagus; they had at least unpacked that.

He shook, just for a moment, but once he had his wits, he stared at her, mouth slightly open. “My queen, if you do not stop dressing as such, I fear you may stop my heart,” he breathed.

She laughed, and she shook her head, “Blame my mother, love. She insisted that I should impress your father,” she teased.

“If nothing else, little queen, you have impressed me, and I daresay that you will impress my mother,” he said, smiling.

She smiled at him, but she leaned in, and he gladly gave her a kiss, drawing her close, and gave a little sigh. “Well. Shall we return to my mother and father?”

“I wouldn't want to upset your father by being late...so I think it would be wise,” she said, smiling.

He gave her a little kiss once more, but he nodded, and he turned to her mother, smiling, “It is good to see you again,” he said softly. “Thank you for taking such good care of her. I don't know what I would do without her,” he said, smiling.

“I think the same applies to her,” she replied with a smile, but she finally let Evan go, and the little boy immediately leaped at his father; the Egyptian caught him in his arms, pulling him to his chest. “And Evan hasn't stopped talking about you all day,” she added.

He laughed, and he grinned at his son, “Did you help take care of your mother?”

“Yeah! I brought her food home and we ate together, and she read me a story, and I held her hand all the way here!”

“Good boy,” he said, grinning, and he saw his wife collect the tablet for him, before she curled her hand in to his elbow.

Tilly watched them walk away, mystified, and heard Evan talking endlessly with the pharaoh.

They made it to the Egyptian wing slowly, as Ahkmenrah did want some time with his wife and son before the night began; he feared that his father had something severe in store. Still, at the entrance to the Egyptian wing, (Name)'s mother bid them goodbye, and said that, if they needed her, they could call her cell phone; she wanted to explore the museum.

(Name) took a deep breath, and Ahkmenrah turned to her, giving her a small, soft kiss, to reassure her, and at last, they entered the display where his parents were waiting patiently.

Shepseheret went to her son right away, giving him a small hug around Evan, and then hugged Evan, and then, she looked (Name) over, a smile appearing. “I did not think it last night, but I see that Ahkmen's words were true. You have the strength and appearance of a queen,” she said.

(Name)'s face flushed, but she smiled, “Thank you. I have my mother to thank for the jewels and clothes, though...she saw them and insisted that I have them for tonight,” she admitted. “I admit I usually look a bit of a mess, with Evan and work,” she confessed.

Shepseheret laughed, “A queen might wear gems and fine fabrics, (Name), but what makes her appear a queen, truly, is her strength and her confidence. You bear your strength in your eyes and you walk with pride. You have strength and confidence in who you are. That is the bearing of a queen, daughter,” she said firmly. “Ahkmen has chosen well,” she complimented.

(Name) blushed again, but she smiled, “Thank you. Truly.”

The woman smiled at her, and she walked the three to Merenkahre, now. The king was waiting for them, and he greeted them in his low voice, before he turned to the two. “It is time to begin. We have only the night to speak, and I think there is much to say...and a great decision to make,” he indicated, looking them over with his critical eye, his gaze stern. He watched Ahkmenrah put Evan down carefully, and he looked at the child for only a moment, “Evan, you have a tale to hear, and I hope you will listen well, child. It will not be a kind story, I fear, but you should listen closely to your parents,” he said severely.

There was something in the king's manner that made Evan heed each word, and he turned up to his mother and father, a little fearful, but they both took one of his hands. (Name) stumbled for a moment, but at last, she tugged her son toward a bench, and she sat down carefully, “Evan...do you remember, before you found out that Ahk was your father, that you wanted to know why I wouldn't explain...why you didn't have a father?” The question was stumbling, and slow, and she had helped her son climb on to the bench beside her.

“Yeah,” he said, slowly, looking confused, “but Daddy...he's my daddy, you said, so it doesn't matter, now.”

(Name) hesitated, her eyes rising to Ahkmenrah's, and he saw the worry and fear there, so he went to them, kneeling beside his wife, so that he could face his son. “Evan, this isn't easy for your mother,” he said gently. “Will you give her time to explain?” When the little boy nodded, Ahkmenrah smiled soothingly. “Do you remember when you first met me, and I told you that the man you were asking about was a very bad man?”

Evan had to think about that, and his brows furrowed, “You both said that...that man wasn't my daddy, because he was a bad man,” he said slowly. “Is he...is he my real daddy? Is that why we only see you at night, Daddy?”

“No, baby,” (Name) said fiercely, shaking, “That man...that man is an awful, awful person. He's a monster, and no matter what, you should never, ever think of him as your father.” She felt Ahkmenrah's hand take hers, his fingers twining with her own, and it soothed her. “But I need to tell you something, and I thought I would be telling you this when you were a lot older,” she admitted. “So...please listen to Mama, okay?”

When he nodded again, (Name) took a deep breath. “When I was younger, before you were born, Evan, I met a man who seemed very nice. But deep down, he was very, very mean, and he did awful things to me,” she said slowly, trying to block the memory from rising to the top of her mind. “He hurt me, Evan, in ways that no one should ever be hurt.”

“Did he hit you, Mama? You tell me not to hit things when I'm mad,” he said, puzzled.

When she let out a gasp, Ahkmenrah's grip tightened on her hand. “He did a lot worse than hit me, Evan. You don't know yet, and I'm not going to explain it, but when two people love each other, sometimes, they create a baby,” she said carefully. “Now, usually, this is something that they agree on, and they have a baby when they're ready for it,” she said slowly, and Ahkmenrah could see her eyes getting wider, and he tugged on her hand until she had to look at him.

“Let me,” he said softly, squeezing her hand tightly. “Let me, so you don't have to remember,” he asked, worried.

She let out a quiet little whimper, and she nodded helplessly, trying to push down the awful memories. It had been years, yet she had not quite forgotten the feeling, the pain, the helplessness, the fear. Time had made it easier, but (Name) knew that she would always bear those scars on her heart, no matter the time that passed. They would become smaller, and Ahkmenrah was smoothing them, too, but it was a damage that could not be repaired physically; only time would help, and she knew that.

Ahkmenrah didn't let go of his wife's hand, but he reached out, and he touched Evan's little hand, asking for it; the little boy gave it to him, confused, and worried about his mother. “She's okay,” he soothed gently, “but that man was evil, Evan. Do you remember the first time you ever fell and hurt yourself?”

He frowned, “I cried until Mama got me,” he admitted.

“Mama still remembers how he hurt her,” Ahkmenrah said gently, “so she remembers the pain. It isn't easy, Evan, so I'm going to try to explain,” he said softly. “Do you understand?”

The little boy nodded again, and he reached for his mother's hand, now, holding it; they formed a little triangle now, and Ahkmenrah took a deep breath, thinking of how to explain without triggering his wife's memories. “Evan, your mother didn't agree to have a baby with that man,” he said slowly, “and he forced her to do what makes children,” he explained, as vaguely as he could.

“But Mama's strong! She wouldn't ever let someone do something to her,” he insisted, looking worried.

Ahkmenrah glanced at (Name), and he felt her hand shaking in his, but he knew he had to speak. “He used something that made her unable to fight him, Evan,” he said, “and Mama couldn't run away.”

Evan looked distressed, “Then that man...he's really...but you said he wasn't my daddy!”

“He isn't!” (Name) finally broke her silence, “Baby, that man is not your daddy, I promise you.”

“Then did you and Daddy agree to have me?”

(Name) faltered long enough for Evan to take it negatively and tears filled his eyes, “You didn't want me?”

“Evan, honey, I didn't want _him_ to be a part of you,” she said desperately. “I didn't want someone evil to father my child, and...and baby, Mama hated herself for not being strong enough to stop him, or to know what was right for her,” she said, tears rolling down her face. “But then Mama met your daddy, your _real_ daddy, Evan. I met Ahkmenrah.”

The child was confused and hurt, but both his parents had a firm grip on him, so he would have to listen, and (Name) plunged ahead, hoping to sooth the hurt her son surely suffered at this story, “Ahk took care of me. He saw how scared and hurt I was, when I found out I was going to have you, baby. You remember how you cried, and you stopped, when I came to get you?” The little boy gave a reluctant nod, “I stopped crying when Daddy found me,” she said, trying to relate it to him in the only way she knew how. “And Daddy was very, very mad at that mean man for hurting me, so he took care of me,” she explained desperately. “He didn't want me to carry that monster's baby, either, Evan, so he...” She faltered, and Ahkmenrah picked up the threads smoothly.

“I used magic, Evan, to make you mine,” he said, though he wasn't fully sure of how that had worked; he knew he had wished, fiercely, that she didn't have to carry that bastard's child, but he hadn't known it would actually work. Still, he needed Evan to believe it was intentional; the child was hurt and seeking answers and Ahkmenrah wanted his son to know that he was loved, and wanted. “I used magic so that Mama would have you as mine, so that she wouldn't have to worry about that mean man ever being in your life,” he said desperately.

The little boy looked back and forth between them, and he saw the tears on his mother's face as she spoke, “Evan, I love you more than life itself. I would never, ever want anyone else, baby,” she said, holding on to his hand tightly, “But I was so scared and I was so hurt when that awful monster forced himself on me, I didn't even want to live anymore,” she said, admitting it when she felt she must. “But Daddy saved me, and he saved you,” she gasped. “And I wouldn't have it any other way.” She squeezed his hand, and tugged at Ahkmenrah's hand; he let her go, and she gathered her son to her, holding him as tightly as she could, “Oh, baby, I love you. I promise I do, and Daddy loves you, too. We wouldn't want anything else, Evan. You're our son and we both love you so much,” she said in a rush, squeezing him fiercely. “I don't know what I'd do without you, baby.”

The little boy shook in his mothers grip, but he seemed comforted, and he pulled away a little, to meet her eyes, “Does that mean you want me?”

“Evan, no one could ever take you away from me. Someone could try to give me the whole world in exchange for you and I'd never agree,” she said fiercely.

“Not even for all the ice cream in the world?”

(Name) laughed, and it was both relieved and tearful, “Not for all the ice cream in the world, baby,” she assured. “Not for anything in all the world would I ever give you up.”

The child hesitated, but he nodded, and he wrapped his arms up around his mother's neck, “I love you, Mama,” he said softly. “And I'm sorry he hurt you.”

“I love you too, baby,” she said fiercely, squeezing him tightly, and she kissed his cheek, clutching him. “And it's okay, baby. He hurt me, but I got you and Daddy out of it. I think that's quite a wonderful exchange,” she breathed.

Ahkmenrah climbed on to the bench, now, and he wrapped his arms around (Name)'s waist, and he lifted her, and their son, in to his lap, wrapping them both tightly in his arms. “Evan, your mother loves you so much,” he said softly. “And so do I,” he added, smiling, and pressed his lips to his son's dark hair.

The little boy nodded, and he somehow managed to hug Ahkmenrah, too, and (Name) gave a soft little sigh of relief; at least he seemed to accept that, though the circumstances were horrible, he was dearly loved, no matter what had happened.

Merenkahre gave them a little while, but at last, he approached. “Do you understand what happened, Evan?”

Evan lifted his head and looked at the older man, trembling a little bit; the elder pharaoh was intimidating to the child, where Ahkmenrah was open and kind to him. “I understand,” he said, slowly, “But how did Daddy use magic to make me his?”

Merenkahre looked at his son, now, “You wished that she did not have to carry the spawn of a rapist, did you not?”

(Name) flinched at his blunt phrasing, but Evan, at that moment, was cuddled in to both of his parents. “More than anything,” Ahkmenrah admitted. “I knew very little about her, but I knew enough to know that, while no one should bear that burden, she, least of all, deserved it,” he said. “I knew I loved her already, and I could not bear the thought that such a monster would have a grip on her life,” he murmured.

(Name) blushed at his confession, but she was smiling, and she leaned in to softly kiss his cheek, thanking him quietly. But Merenkahre was speaking, and she had to pay attention, “That tablet was created for you, my son,” he said distinctly. “It is linked to you, and Khonsu knows you are the reason it was created. It is connected to your thoughts and feelings; your want to change her burden was heard. The tablet knows your lineage and passed it to the child,” he explained.

It took a moment, but (Name) understood, suddenly; the tablet had been awakening Ahkmenrah and his parents for centuries. It knew the workings of their bodies and, though it was magic, to her brain, which had not believed in such magic until she met her husband, it meant that Ahkmenrah's genetic DNA had been copied on to Evan—the child, after all, had very few of his mother's features, and took distinctly after his father, physically, though he also seemed to bear some of the pharaoh's personality, too. “So...so, just because he... _wanted_ to change it, it happened?”

Merenkahre nodded, looking at his son for a moment, but he met (Name)'s eyes. “His desire must have been great, indeed, for I think that he has wanted many things through the years...but yes, it was his desire to change your fate that caused the tablet to react,” he explained.

(Name) tilted her head back to look at her husband, and she lifted her chin, and he knew; he met her gladly, kissing her softly. “Thank you.”

“I should thank you,” he murmured. “You have changed me, and you have made me better,” he said softly. “And to have Evan, too...I could not ask for more,” he declared.

She smiled, and she kissed him again softly. Still, Merenkahre was not done. “When the tablet affected you, you suffered great pain, did you not?”

One of her arms moved to her belly, almost reflexively, “I thought...I thought I would die,” she admitted reluctantly. “I've never felt so much pain.”

The pharaoh turned to his son, “And you?”

(Name) started, her eyes turning to her husband, “I was weak the next night,” he confessed.

The two sat in silence as they considered this, and Merenkahre let them; it was his intention, after all. “Magic has a price,” he said, slowly, “and before we continue, I must ask (Name) to pay her share for a test,” he said slowly. “Khonsu has shown you his favor...but I think you should prove your worth.”

“Father, I will not have her subjected to any such pain,” Ahkmenrah said, his voice low and fierce. “She has suffered from the effects of the tablet already, and whatever judgment you weigh toward her, my mind will not change,” he declared.

“It is not I who must decide,” he said, slowly, “but Khonsu, and the other Gods.” He turned his eyes to (Name), looking her over distastefully, “I know your mind is made up, my son, but this test is for your future, for if the Gods do not approve, I fear the decision you must make will change,” he enunciated.

(Name) hesitated, but something in her shifted, and she carefully placed Evan on to his father's lap, standing, “What would you have me do?”

Merenkahre eyed her for a moment, considering her seriousness, but when he knew that she was accepting his request, he began to shift the tiles on the tablet in a distinct pattern. “You need only hold the tablet by its edges,” he said, slowly, “and do not disturb the tiles.”

A shiver climbed her spine, and as she reluctantly reached for the golden object, she felt the strange, crackling energy that she'd felt when Ahkmenrah had made Evan his own.

It did not prepare her.

She gasped hoarsely, and her eyes rolled in to the back of her head; the moment her hands had secured around the tablet's edges, electricity tormented every cell in her body. The shocks from Ahkmenrah had been nothing to this, and she could not control herself when a scream ripped up her throat and tore the air around her, but Merenkahre stopped his son, using all his strength and weight, when the younger pharaoh tried to save her the torment.

She shook and nearly vibrated with the pain, but at last, the tablet fell from her grasp, and she collapsed on the ground, choking and gasping, on the verge of losing the dinner she'd just eaten. “I'm pretty sure you just tried to kill me,” she gasped, and Ahkmenrah could not tell if she was joking, but his father had finally released him.

He ran to his wife, kneeling beside her, wrapping his arms around her, “My love, are you alright?”

When he tried to lift her, she gagged again, “Oh, God, don't move me, I'm gonna puke if I budge,” she gasped, her head spinning. “Just...just...let me...let me stay here,” she begged. “The room is going in circles and I don't particularly like the idea of tasting my dinner again,” she added.

He hesitated, but at last, he gently let go of her, but he carefully raked his hands through her hair, drawing it away from her face, but his eyes lifted to his father, narrowing angrily, “What did you do to her?”

“The Gods have judged her,” Merenkahre said, “and as she survived, they favor her,” he concluded, and he knelt, lifting the tablet. “Indeed, I think that Khonsu had a hand in her making,” he offered. “It seems she was brought to you for a reason,” he decided.

“Well, I totally appreciate that,” she mumbled, putting her face on the cold tile floor. “But...that implies you would have been fine with my death,” she muttered.

“It would have depended,” he said idly. “If you awoke, it might have been an even better omen,” he offered.

“Oh, right, that's...yeah, I think I should keep my mouth shut,” she muttered, groaning quietly.

The elder pharaoh eyed her distastefully, and he watched his son carefully rubbing the young woman's back. He gave them a moment, but he saw Evan approach them, sitting with his father, “Now. Evan must know the whole truth before the end of the night.” Evan turned his head to Merenkahre, his eyes wide with fear.

“I think he's heard enough,” (Name) said distinctly, slowly, “for one night. He's too young for this,” she muttered. “And I really don't think he'll take _that_ particular information as well as he did the last,” she added.

Evan reached out to grasp at his mother's arm, holding on to her helplessly, “Mama? Are you okay?”

“I'm okay, baby,” she breathed. “I just feel really, really sick. The room is spinning,” she explained.

“Like the merry-go-round?”

“A lot faster than the merry-go-round,” she said slowly. “Mama just needs to keep her head down. Okay?”

He crawled closer to her, and though Ahkmenrah was rubbing her back, the child reached out and held her wrist; it was lying on the floor as she kept her head on the ground, her eyes shut tightly. “What does he want you to tell me?”

The woman stiffened, and if she hadn't feared vomiting, her eyes would have gone to her husband. But she heard Ahkmenrah's voice, soft and low, and something in the gentle cadence of it drummed sense in to her, “Evan, what I must tell you is not easy,” he said slowly, “but I feel that Father knows what he is doing...so I must tell you,” he said. “Will you listen to me closely, and promise that you'll stay with me, even when I explain?”

Evan looked more fearful than ever, and the little boy's hand tightened on his mother's wrist, and she made an effort; she managed to just grab his hand, holding him as tightly as her spinning head would allow, but she kept her eyes closed. When she had a hold on him in return, the child, at last, nodded.

Though Ahkmenrah had been nervous when they'd told the child the truth about his birth, he felt it bubbling up more fiercely than ever; it surfaced and made him feel queasy, but he was a king. He knew how to handle his nerves.

“Evan, you remember last night, when you first met your grandparents, and I fell faint?” It was not the way he should have described it, he knew; his son had watched his face wither and age in a moment and it had frightened him beyond what even the dinosaur and the snake demon had managed.

The little boy went as white as a sheet, as though all the blood had drained from his body, and he looked on the verge of bolting. “You looked like a monster,” he whispered.

Something in his non-existent stomach twisted at that statement, “I'm sorry I frightened you, Evan,” he said sincerely, frowning, but he didn't reach for the little boy. Would Evan reject him, when he knew the truth? His words faltered, and he grasped for the will to tell his son the truth, and at last, he managed it, though it was far more blunt than he had ever intended, “But I looked that way because I'm dead,” he blurted out.

Evan went so still that (Name) lifted her head, and she saw it before Ahkmenrah did; she had spent all her time around this little boy when she could, and she knew what the look on his face meant.

Trouble.

The child was all at once fearful, confused, and hurt, and it it all compounded in to a fit suited to his age; the tiny four year old began to scream and cry as though he was being tortured, and with all the will in her body, (Name) forced herself to sit up. She was weak and dizzy and she could taste the bile in her throat as her body protested the movement, but she grabbed Evan's flailing arms and forced him to look at her, “If you keep screaming, Mama will leave the room until you're done,” she said sternly, her eyes narrowed, “And Grandma and Grandpa and Daddy won't help you, either, because I won't let them.”

Evan's fits were rare, but when they hit, they hit hard; (Name) had learned that the hard way, when he'd thrown his first, and the child had screamed and cried until he threw up on himself and still didn't stop; it went on for more than an hour and only when (Name) stopped trying to attend him did he finally quit his screaming. He was as stubborn and strong-willed as his mother, and (Name) watched him try, at first, to get her attention, and she forcefully kept Ahkmenrah from reaching for the child, when he didn't stop.

But when he realized she would keep her word, his screaming stopped, and he glared at his mother, “You're mean.”

“Yes, I'm mean, because I know what's best for you, and we both know that fit isn't going to change anything,” she said bluntly. “You can call me all the names you want, but I won't change my mind.” Despite her weakness, she sat up straight and kept her shoulders square, meeting her son's eyes sternly, “So, are you through, so Daddy can explain, or should I leave?”

Evan was old enough to know when he wouldn't get his way, and he was old enough to know his mother's boundaries. He'd seen her this way before and he remembered the trouble he'd gotten in the last time for one of his silly fits, so he pouted and crossed his arms, still glaring at her. “I'm done.”

Shepseheret decided, at once, that (Name) was the perfect match for her son. He had been right; she had the strength and will of a great queen, and the intelligence and wisdom of a woman far older. Whatever her husband thought of the young woman, she was decided; whatever decision her son made about his family, she would agree to it, no matter what it meant for herself and her husband. She watched Ahkmenrah struggle, at first, but he found his footing despite the fit his son had thrown. “Evan, Daddy was actually born thousands of years ago,” he said, slowly, “and I was murdered by my brother, when I was a little younger than your mother.” He paused, and he saw that his son's grudge began to dissipate in favor of his curiosity. “But my father, as he explained last night, made the tablet of Ahkmenrah,” he said, glancing at the object in his father's hands. “It's magic, Evan, and when the sun sets, I become a living human again,” he said, hoping it was enough of an explanation.

The little one stared at him, “So that's why we don't see you during the day?”

He hesitated, but slowly, he offered a nod, “During the day, I'm a shrunken, dead body wrapped in cloth,” he said slowly.

Evan seemed to understand, at least enough that he could take it in. Then, he stared at his father with the same look Ahkmenrah gave (Name) when he was thinking intensely, “You said it's magic...and it was what made me yours...” When the pharaoh nodded, the child paled, “I'm not dead, too, am I?”

Ahkmenrah shook his head so fast that he felt a bit dizzy, “No, Evan, of course not,” he said urgently, “You're like your mother,” he offered softly. “She's alive, and so are you,” he explained.

Evan took another moment, and Ahkmenrah began to understand why (Name) had said that the child had stared her down the way he did; the little boy was so intently thinking that he might have bored a hole in the pharaoh, if it had been possible, “But Daddy, that means you can't stay with us,” he said, tears welling in his eyes, “You can't live with us since you're only alive at night.”

When he seemed on the verge of another fit, (Name) reached for him, and she gathered him in to her lap, but he skittered away from her when she began to tilt dangerously; even merely sitting was stealing the energy from her body, despite sleeping all day. “Mama!”

“I'm okay, baby,” she said, but there was a slur in her words, “I'm okay. Just dizzy.”

“You need sleep, Mama,” the little boy said, crawling to her side and clutching her arm, “You look tired.”

Merenkahre interrupted again, “Evan, if your father could be with you all the time, would you like it?”

Six eyes fixed on the older pharaoh, all wide, but two were filled with energy in an instant, “Can he? Can Daddy be with us like a real daddy?”

He surveyed the three, his eyes lingering on each of them, before he spoke, “It is possible...but it has great consequences,” he informed, looking at the two adults. “Magic has a great price, little one, and for your father to be with you, it would cost more than any one person might pay.”

(Name)'s heart skipped a beat, “How? How can he...he's dead,” she said, slowly. “He doesn't even have lungs to breathe with,” she uttered, dumbfounded.

“The tablet.” Merenkahre's voice was low and distinct. “But you must realize, (Name), that if you make this choice, it must be all of you,” he said, each word slow. “For Ahkmenrah would die with you. He would never arise again, for the tablet would give all its magic to making him truly alive...and it would cease to exist,” he explained.

She paled, “But...but...Ahk wouldn't be able to see you again,” she said, shaking, “and...and the price, you said there's a price to magic...what is the price for this?”

“The price is eternity,” he explained. “The tablet would be gone; Ahkmenrah would die and remain dead, whether it is old age, or illness in his youth,” he said, lingering on each word. “And to become human, he would suffer the worst pain anything might,” he added.

(Name) shook all over, hard, “That's not fair. That's not fair to him at all...to take his parents, and his friends, and the world he knows...to torture him, to live one life? A life he wouldn't understand? Thousands of years have changed the world infinitely. He would have to adapt, and he would have to learn to function in today's society, and even _I_ barely manage that, at times,” she said, wide-eyed.

“It's not fair for Evan to only see his father once a year for a few hours a night,” Ahkmenrah said, staring at the little boy. “It's not fair that my wife must fend for herself and our son with only her mother to rely on,” he added, his eyes turning to her, “And it's not fair that I can only see my family for a breath of time when I have lived an eternity of nights,” he said, suddenly, and his eyes darkened, “And it is least fair of all that I would be made to live beyond my beloved son and wife when age stole them from me,” he said, nearly growling.

(Name) felt her mouth go dry and could not find words, but Evan sprang forward, clutching his father desperately, “I want you to be with us, Daddy! I want you to live with us!” He turned to his mother, “Please, Mama? Don't you want Daddy with us?”

(Name) couldn't speak, and she knew, without warning, that she was going to be violently sick. She bolted from the room and barely made it to the nearest trash can, and emptied her stomach until she was dry-heaving, sweating, and feverish.

When it passed, she collapsed on the ground in a heap, weak, and shaking. The previous nights and the weight of the decision had caught up to her. How could she agree? How could she take her husband from the life he knew, and force him to live a life he would barely understand? He was vastly intelligent and learned quickly, she had noticed, but still, it was...terrible. Awful.

And yet she could not tell him that she didn't want him.

She wanted, more than anything, to have Ahkmenrah in her life...in Evan's life.

She felt, suddenly, a familiar warmth wrapping around her, and her feverish brain struggled to identify it. “Oh, honey,” a voice said softly, “Come on. I've got some medicine for that,” it continued. “You've frightened your husband out of his wits. Can you sit up?”

Hands tugged at her gently, and a thumb found her chin, “Come on, sweetie. Will you open your mouth? It won't taste good, but it'll keep you from vomiting again,” the voice said, and (Name) rolled her head toward its source, until she realized her eyes were firmly closed. Her vision was blurry, but she identified her mother, barely managing to mouth her name. “Yes, it's me,” she said, soothingly. “Now, honey, please let me put this under your tongue. It'll help, I promise,” she coaxed.

When she finally managed to comply, her mother placed a little pill beneath her tongue, and helped her keep her mouth closed around it, until the younger woman relaxed. “Alright, now, something for the fever and headache,” she said, and she held up a little bottle of water. “Do you think you can swallow a pill for me?”

Her mother had given enough time for the first medicine to take hold, and she felt almost human again, so she nodded slowly. She took another pill, and she curled up, feeling cold, glad the dizziness was gone, but her mind was still spinning with thought, and the trial from the Egyptian Gods seemed to have stolen all her energy. She felt sick and weak, and wondered, listlessly, what Ahkmenrah must think of her.

She felt arms curl beneath her, strong and steady, and she belatedly realized she was being lifted. She felt that same familiar warmth being draped over her, and she realized, at last, that it was Ahkmenrah's robe. She blinked up at him, blurry-eyed, and this time, with the water having soothed her throat, she managed to make her voice work, “Ahk?”

He clutched her tighter, and she saw the worry on his face, “I am sorry, my little queen. I should have asked him to wait,” he breathed.

“No,” she murmured, curling in his chest. “I just...how could I agree to that? You know how much I want you with us, but I would be taking you away from your parents...away from everything you know, and that doesn't even account for all the lives the tablet awakens every night,” she mumbled.

He cuddled her closer to him, keeping a tight grip on her, “You realize, (Name), that I spent over three thousand years sharing a tomb with my parents...right?”

There was a warmth and teasing in his voice, and at first, she didn't understand, until she began to laugh, “Are you telling me you don't want another three-thousand with them?”

He smiled at her, and he bent his head to kiss her temple softly. His pace was slow, careful not to jostle her, and he was keeping his robe held around her; he had panicked when he saw her, sick, and had nearly sprinted through the museum until he found her mother, and he'd raced back almost too fast, finding her feverish and shaking and her mother, thankfully, had been prepared. “I love my parents, (Name), but I have had many lifetimes with them...and if I can only have a few years more, I intend to spend them with you and Evan,” he said, his voice soft. “And I know that the others in the museum would agree, if only for Evan. They all love him,” he offered.

She thought that over, but gave a weighty sigh, though she was smiling, “Your mind is already made up, isn't it?”

He smiled at her now, “My mind was made up the moment I held Evan,” he declared. “I knew, no matter the price, if I had the choice...I would choose you and Evan,” he said, his voice soft. “I did not think it would mean taking the magic from others...but I must admit my selfishness in this matter,” he offered, slowly. “Although they are the dearest of friends, and they all have lives and personalities of their own...I was robbed of a chance for a life in my youth, and I have been given this, in the most unusual way,” he breathed. “If I have the chance to live and die with you and Evan, I will take it. I will speak to the others, when they return me, and I will become human then...but my words will be a goodbye, not a question,” he admitted, and finally, he met her eyes. “Will you agree to that? I want to spend a life with you, and with our son. I have never wanted anything more,” he said.

She hesitated, but at last, she gave him a nod, “If you...if you truly want that, and you know what it means...then yes, I want you to be with us,” she finally said.

He carried her back to his parents, and they were playing with Evan, keeping him busy, so that he wouldn't go looking for his mother. Merenkahre looked up when his son carried (Name) back to them, and he stood slowly. “Well?”

“I am going with them,” his son said, distinctly. “I made my choice when I first held Evan,” he confessed.

Shepseheret began to tear up, but the woman was smiling, looking elated. “My son, you should enjoy every moment. Your life was stolen when you were far too young, Ahkmen, and you have a chance to have a family. I think you are making the right choice,” she decided.

He smiled at her, but he made no other movement; (Name) was ill and needed rest, and he did not trust to put her on her own two feet. Merenkahre spoke, “Then, at dawn, you will be made human once more,” he said firmly, keeping his own emotions in check, but it was difficult.

“No, no,” (Name) said, her voice growing weak again, “That's...not so fast,” she added. “Ahk has friends at the old museum...and I think he should have the chance to say goodbye to them, and to explain what's going to happen,” she said, feeling sleep pulling at her, and then she fought to speak again, “And I think he should have a little while longer with you, too,” she admitted.

The two Egyptians seemed startled, but for the first time, Merenkahre smiled at her. “I think, perhaps, you are the only woman who could deserve my son,” he said, slowly, “though it could take a few lifetimes.”

She laughed, surprised, but she shook her head, “I'm afraid I only have one...but I intend to make the best of it,” she said, clutching gently at the pharaoh; he held her tightly, but she had her arms up around his neck, despite his robe being over her. “Ahk saved me the night he gave me Evan,” she said softly, “and I don't intend to waste the life he gave me, because I appreciate what I have so much better now,” she murmured. “I know I'm lucky. More than lucky.”

Ahkmenrah clutched her tighter, and he bent his head, dipping to press his lips against her temple. “I am lucky, little queen,” he breathed. “I could almost thank my brother for murdering me, in fact,” he teased.

She shook her head, “I stand by the fact that, if I met him, I'd probably break his nose,” she muttered sourly.

He grinned at her, “I can't say I'd stop you, my love, but I hope that we should never have that ill fortune.”

She smiled, slowly, but she found herself cuddling in to his chest, feeling exhausted, and he noticed it before she could try to reply. “I should take you to the hotel,” he murmured, keeping his voice soft for her.

She gave a soft sigh, but she looked up at him, and then at Merenkahre, and she hesitated for a moment. At last, however, she knew that she must ask; she would never know if she didn't, and she felt it important, “I...if I may, could I ask...well, is there any way I could...propose a solution, to Ahkmenrah's...well, to him needing to adjust to living in this day and time...? If it would work...I don't know the extent of the tablet's abilities,” she murmured.

Merenkahre looked at her, seeming to think over what she'd said, “Some of its abilities are not fully understood even to me, but I could do my best,” he said, thoughtful.

She felt awkward, curled up against her husband's chest, but Ahkmenrah showed no signs of putting her down, and she saw that Shepseheret was taking care of Evan, despite the little boy's concern for his mother. “Could the tablet transfer memories?” The question was soft, and somewhat hesitant. “I...I'm aware that we all have private things in our minds, but if I could ease his transition, I would gladly give him all my memories, if the tablet could do so,” she murmured.

Merenkahre thought that over, and he observed the tablet for several moments. “It could...but I do not think you should attempt it this night,” he said distinctly. “You have spent much of your energy already, and I fear that the price for that might be higher than you can afford tonight.”

She nodded at that, understanding, “You're probably right, considering I could probably fall asleep right now,” she muttered. 

Ahkmenrah clutched her against his chest tightly, and he nuzzled her temple gently. “I shall take you to your hotel, love,” he breathed. “You need rest. You can return tomorrow night,” he offered.

She nearly protested, but he firmly shook his head, and he curled his arms so that she was tilted up to him, giving her a very stern look, and she sighed heavily, “Alright, alright,” she murmured. “Just...if I'm too heavy, put me on my feet. I'm a grown woman with working legs,” she insisted.

He grinned at her, “You are light, my love,” he assured her, and he told his parents that he would return shortly; he insisted that he take his wife to her hotel room, so that she could rest. “I know your mother and Evan have taken great care of you, but I feel it is quite my turn to take care of my wife, if only for a little while,” he said softly. “Allow me that, tonight,” he urged.

She felt a little smile forming on her face, quirking up her lips, and she gave a little sigh, snuggling in to his chest, “Very well. Just for tonight,” she agreed, unable to resist, and she tightened her arms in what manner she could, giving him a small hug. “Thank you.”

Elated with her acceptance, he watched her mother take Evan, and followed the older woman out, managing to evade Tilly and slip away, bearing his wife to her hotel room; she fell asleep before they were even free of the museum, and he grasped her tightly, unwilling to let go of her until her mother turned down the blankets. He eased her in to the bed carefully, brushing her hair out of the way, and when he knew he had a little time left, he climbed on to the bed beside her, curling up around her smaller form, just to hold her for a little while.

At last, when he knew he had to leave, he squeezed her once, and he pressed his lips to her pulse gently, sighing. “I love you, (Name). Rest, little queen, for I could not bear it if something happened to you,” he murmured.

Evan was already asleep on the other bed, and he kissed his son goodnight, too, before, at last, turning to the door. Her mother caught his arm gently, and surprising him, she gave him a strong hug, promising she would look after the two for him; after all, she wanted nothing to happen to either of them.

He departed with a longing look at his family, finding himself wishing, more than ever, for time to hurry; he wanted to go back to the museum and say goodbye to his family there, and begin his life with his wife and son.

He wanted it more than anything in all the world.

**_ End Chapter _ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit dramatic, I admit...but I have a tendency for that, and I feel that, indeed, Merenkahre would seek the approval of the Gods before he attempted to give his son life once more; after all, if they didn't approve, what if all went wrong? Anyway, enough of my reasoning. The chapter is considerably longer than the previous ones (I think even the last one was shorter, even when you count the lullaby...) but I couldn't seem to find a stopping point until...well, that, obviously.
> 
> Anyway, I hope you've all enjoyed the chapter, and I hope it makes up for the long delay due to my vacation!
> 
> Thank you all for sticking with me, and I truly hope you enjoyed it.
> 
> Comments are immensely appreciated, and I'll do my best to answer any questions you might have if you should submit them.


	14. Chapter Fourteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  ** _DISCLAIMER:_** I do **NOT** own _Night at the Museum_ , or any of its contents, characters, actors, ideas...or anything at all related to it. I never have, and I never will. This is written for fun. I’m dirt poor, so sorry. This is for my entertainment and for those who read this.
> 
> I also don't own anything remotely recognizable in the story; music, devices, brand names or anything; if you recognize it, I don't own it. I make nothing off of anything. None of my works provide me a profit. Basically, **_I own absolutely nothing._** Point blank.
> 
> I want to thank you all, so much, for your patience with me. I'm aware that it's taken far too long for this new chapter, but, alas, life has been demanding lately, and fantasy has had to wait.
> 
> That said, this chapter, in what brief moments I've had to write it, has managed to turn out rather long, and I couldn't find the best way to close it out, so...if the ending seems a bit...incomplete, I apologize, but Ahk and (Name) wouldn't quite seal it off neatly.
> 
>  ** _WARNING: ___**In this chapter, (Name) gives her memories to Ahkmenrah. _This includes her rape._ I have not written it in detail, but if any readers fear they may be triggered by reading such, _please_ scroll until you feel it's safe. You'll know when it begins, I promise, and again, I have not included detail, for I don't think I should, but _please,_ if this would upset you, skip it! This chapter has many dark themes and mentions depression and self-loathing, too. It's not the happiest of chapters, and I feel I should warn any of those who might have trouble with such.
> 
> Now, without further delay, I present the new chapter.

**_ Chapter Fourteen _ **

(Name) awoke to the feeling of her son pressed deeply in to her back, his tiny fingers knotted in her shirt, and felt her lips quirk up at the sensation. It was one she hadn't felt in a long time; the little boy, often, preferred his own bed. He'd learned to sleep on his own in good time, and the child rarely went to his mother, unless he had a terrible nightmare. She'd worked hard to raise him well; he wasn't afraid of the dark, and had a little lamp at his bedside he could merely tap to turn on, if he awoke in the middle of the night.

But when he wanted to sleep with her, and didn't want to wake her, he always managed to clamber behind her and snuggle in to her back, and clutched at whatever she was wearing that night.

She knew he must have been worried about her, and she carefully reached backward, her hand finding his side, and she rubbed it gently, “Hey little man,” she murmured, shaking him softly. “Will you let me turn over?”He stretched, and his bony knee knocked in to her, making her groan, “Buddy, you're getting awfully bony! I think you're stretching out on me,” she teased, and she heard him giggle in his half-sleep, but his warmth slid farther away, and she made it on to her back. After that, she propped her knees up, and lifted her little boy so that he sat on her belly, leaning against her legs, grinning at him. “You're going to be so tall. One day you're gonna have to get all the stuff off the top shelves for your mother,” she teased.

The child was still sleepy, but he grinned at her, “But then you won't be able to hide the cookies from me,” he said.

“Hmm...well, when you're that tall, I hope you'll listen to me when I tell you something.” She reached out, ruffling his hair, and laughed, “But you do that pretty well now, so I think I'll be okay to put the cookie jar out on the counter,” she joked.

The sleepiness seemed to be pulling at him still, for he gave a yawn, “Can I have a cookie now?”

She laughed, but she shook her head, “That depends on what time it is, buddy, and I think we should have some real food first,” she added.

He pouted at her, but it was mild. “Can we have waffles, Mama?”

“Hmm...we'll see, sweetheart,” she murmured. “We'll see if we can find a place to get some, but if we do, you have to promise to eat eggs, too. You have to eat _something_ decent,” she said.

He thought that over, “Okay, Mama,” he managed, yawning again, and (Name) laughed, turning her head. The clock on the little night stand said it was after noon, and she groaned, sinking her head in to the pillow, “I'm going to turn in to an owl, at this rate,” she mumbled.

“What do you mean, Mama?”

She laughed softly, “Staying up so late, buddy! Owls are more active at night,” she said, smiling. “They hunt at night,” she added, when he looked at her curiously.

“But Daddy's going to live with us!” His sleepiness seemed to disappear with the idea, his eyes going wide and excited, “He'll be awake with us!”

She thought that over, but she smiled, “You know, that's true,” she admitted. “What do you think about that, buddy? Are you going to be good for Daddy, too?”

His nod was instant and fast, and he nearly trembled with his excitement, “I'll be the best ever! I'll help him all the time, Mama! And I'll be good and teach him everything I know!”

She laughed softly, but she finally sat up, allowing Evan to fall in to her lap, and she grinned at him, “When Daddy comes home with us, he'll have a lot to learn. It's going to be hard for him,” she explained, her voice gentle. “So if he asks you to do something, or tells you something, you need to listen, okay? And I know you're a good boy, and you'll be wonderful with him, but I want you to do your best to help Daddy, okay?”

Evan nodded slowly, but he seemed to understand what his mother was trying to tell him. “What will it be like? Will he get to live with us, Mama?”

She smiled at him, “Definitely,” she declared, nodding. “Daddy will live with us, and he'll be with us all the time,” she added. “It's going to take time, though, to figure out what we'll do. Daddy may want to get a job, and might want to explore the world, once he adjusts, so we'll have to take this one step at a time, okay?”

He gave another nod, a slow, distinct one, and he grinned, “Can we travel, Mama? I wanna go to a theme park, and ride rides! And we should take him to the zoo!”

She laughed, and she nodded, tugging her son in to a tight hug, “We're going to do a lot of stuff, buddy,” she said, grinning. “I promise. I bet Daddy would like to do all of that,” she offered.

“Can Grandmama come, too?” Evan was already excited by the idea, nearly bouncing in place, “She told me she likes that roller coaster and she wants to do it again!”

(Name) grinned, “Oh, we're going to take Grandmama, too, buddy. We're going to put her on even better roller coasters!”

As Evan laughed, the hotel door beeped and groaned mechanically, and they smelled, instantly, a familiar aroma. It was sweet, and savory, and Evan nearly leaped across the room in a bound, “WAFFLES!”

(Name) burst in to a rich, warm laughter, and she peered around the corner to see her mother holding boxes over her head as Evan nearly tackled her. “How on earth do you know what I have?” Her mother's words were filled with laughter, and she reached down to pat the little boy's head carefully, grinning.

“I wanted waffles when I woke up!” He was nearly bouncing still, but his focus had changed; he wanted the sweet breakfast right then.

“Well, you're lucky,” she said, making her way toward the little table in the room. “Grandmama had to walk a long way for breakfast and they had just enough for you two,” she said, placing the boxes on the table. “But I know what you like, so go wash your hands and come back in here,” she said, grinning.

Evan did as his grandmother asked with all haste, and (Name) laughed, shaking her head, and she ran a hand through her hair carefully. “You're amazing,” she said, grinning. “What possessed you to get waffles for us?”

The woman grinned at her daughter, “Actually, I went for a walk,” she admitted. “London is beautiful! I passed a shop, though, and I just thought you two could use a not-so-healthy-but-extra-tasty breakfast, after the night you had,” she explained. “You still eat strawberries and blackberries on yours, right?”

(Name) stared at the older woman, wide-eyed, “You didn't!”

“With a little strawberry syrup, and bacon, sausage, and eggs,” she said, grinning. “Your husband gave me the short version of what happened. You both deserve a little spoiling today,” she declared with a single, firm nod. “Evan got the same, but I asked them to make it a little smaller...you know he likes to eat like his mother,” she said. “Oh, and no blackberries. He doesn't like the seeds.”

(Name) grinned, but she shook her head, “You're a miracle-worker, Mom.” She finally pushed the blankets from herself, throwing her legs over the side of the bed, and realized, suddenly, that she was still in the dress from the night before, though it was decidedly wrinkled. She gave a sigh, “You know...I think I'll change and wash up before I eat,” she murmured, rubbing her temples. “I fell asleep on Ahk, didn't I?”

“We didn't even get through Asia before you were out,” she said, carefully popping open the box with Evan's food. “Ahk stayed for a little while. He climbed on the bed after you and just held you for a while,” she murmured. “He was worried sick when he got me at the museum,” she added, listening for the water to stop running. “I think he would've stayed, if he could've.”

Heaving a heavy sigh, (Name) nodded, “He would have...if he wasn't a rotten corpse during the day,” she admitted.

Her mother chuckled, “Well, it won't be long before he can,” she said, and there was something in her tone that made (Name) look up. “I know he's not like that...” The elder woman trailed off, and (Name) saw her jaw clench and her eyes darken. “I know. But I know, even with your feelings for him, it might take time before you fully trust him physically,” she said, her voice soft. “And that's okay, and it's normal,” she added, her words gentle. “But when you're ready for that and you need time with your husband, all you have to do is let me know,” she offered. “You know I'll take Evan whenever you need.”

Heat rushed to her cheeks, and (Name) averted her eyes, but she bit her lip. “I...I appreciate that,” she managed, embarrassed, but grateful.

“I was young and in love once too, honey,” she said, grinning. “It's okay.”

(Name) gave a little nod, but her mind was wandering. “...Mom?”

The tone of her voice made her mother stop instantly; she'd put out the food neatly for her daughter and grandson and had gotten both a drink, and had begun to put the little plastic forks and napkins down. But that tone in her daughter's voice made her walk to the younger woman, and sit on the bed beside her.

Though she said nothing, (Name) knew that her mother was there for her; she didn't have to speak, and she would listen if she needed. Her mother was comforting, and the elder woman had been her rock when she'd been raped. Her mother had kept her from spiraling in to suicidal tendencies, and had, with all the effort she had, pulled (Name) from the pit of resentment she'd found. Ahkmenrah had saved her, too, but her mother had always been there for her.

“I...I know...I know I said I would gladly give all my memories to Ahk, to help him...adjust, but...but...what will he...what will he think, when he sees...?”

Her mother instantly wrapped her arm tightly around her little shoulders, “Oh, baby, Ahk will love you even more,” she said, her voice soft. “A lesser man might judge you for what happened to you, but I think seeing what happened to you will make him cherish you even more,” she said, meaning it. “You are so strong, baby, and Ahk admires that in you. What happened to you hasn't made you any less valuable to anyone, least of all to him,” she assured.

“But he'll see what I felt,” she breathed, shaking. “He'll see how much I hated myself, and how scared I was, and...and how you had to force me to live, just so I wouldn't...”

She felt her head lift when her mother grabbed her cheeks, making her look at the older woman, “Ahk loves you, baby, and that isn't going to change when he sees what that monster did to you,” she said, keeping her voice firm, making her daughter meet her eyes. “None of what happened to you was your fault, baby, and Ahk knows that,” she assured. “He'll better understand you, and if he thinks any less of you for what was done to you, he's not the man you should love.”

(Name) hesitated, but let that thought roll over her. She knew, in her heart, that her mother was right. She knew that, most of all, Ahkmenrah would love her even after he saw her memories. She knew, deep down, that it wouldn't change his feelings for her; it might increase them, in the end, but it was still hard to think that, when she had hated herself so much...that someone could love her after it. And she knew that her mother was right at the last, too; the man she loved should not think less of her for her being raped.

But the scars that had surfaced on her soul still called back to that feeling, the way she had thought that she was dirty and sullied and that she couldn't be loved...that she _shouldn't_ be loved, when she couldn't love herself.

She would always have that doubt, she knew. It was not something that could be mended, when it was branded in to her very brain, when, for a time, the only thing keeping her alive was her mother's begging her to be strong and not leave her like her father had done so many years ago.

She made herself take a deep breath, and she nodded, at last, before she gave a sigh. “Thanks, Mom,” she murmured.

“Of course, baby,” she said, rubbing her daughter's back. “Now, you need breakfast, and we'll go see the city with Evan until night falls,” she offered, turning the subject to something more pleasant; the vacation she was allowed.

(Name) managed to pull herself together to have breakfast, and then a shower, and she dressed casually, this time; if the tablet caused as much pain this time, she was afraid she would vomit again. She determined not to eat too late, too, and though they explored the city for a little while, as night fell, they made their way back toward the museum, and (Name) had to tell herself, several times, that Ahkmenrah would still love her.

Doubt was a powerful thing.

She did not doubt Ahkmenrah, in the end, she knew. She doubted herself, far more than she doubted him, but the thought that her husband would still love and care for her when he saw her worst memories was an idea that helped keep her mind stable. It kept her from panic, to make that her mantra, just for that night, and she clung to it as they went inside, Tilly giving a brief nod as they passed.

Her husband's sarcophagus was cleaner than she remembered, and the box he'd come in was, now, relabeled; it seemed they were going to ship him out soon, and she thought it appropriate. Had they already done what they needed? Or were they still working? She supposed she'd find out later, but for now, she saw that the tablet was beginning to glow, and she heard that raspy, rattling breath that Ahkmenrah always gave at his awakening. The sound of it jarred her bones and made her chest hurt, and she immediately went to help him out, helping him shed his wrappings, and when she heard his shaky breathing, she pulled him in to her arms.

She knew how that felt.

His chin fell on to the top of her head, and he wrapped her in his arms tightly, his grip just a little too tight, but he began to calm down shortly. “I am never going to miss that box,” he mumbled.

She smiled, and she pressed it in to his skin, “It won't be long, love. Besides,” she said, softly, keeping close to him, “you still have my ribbon around your arm. I'm with you all the time,” she murmured. He hadn't yet loosened his grip enough for her to pull away, but it wasn't quite as tight as he began to realize he was safe; her warmth and softness in his arms reminded him that he was...well, he wasn't alone anymore.

He gave a soft sigh, but he nuzzled in to her gently, pressing his lips to her temple. “I suppose we should go to my father,” he said, slowly, but he pulled back to look at her, now. “You know that you don't have to give me your memories, (Name), don't you?”

She smiled, but she was nervous, and she knew he sensed it. “I want to, love,” she said, and she meant it. “It...I just...I just...” She took a deep, shuddering breath, and he squeezed her carefully. “There are certain things I wish you didn't have to see of me,” she admitted.

His face darkened, and he gripped her tighter, “My love, nothing will change, even if I see that,” he said, his declaration stout. “Though, if I should ever see the man who did it, I do not know that he will live through the meeting,” he hissed.

She shook her head, “No, love...let him rot,” she said, reassured by his fierceness. “After all, what happened let me meet you, and that gave us Evan...so for all the evil he did...good came of it,” she murmured. “Besides, I don't want my husband in jail,” she added.

He seemed to take his time in considering this, but he gave a sigh, at last, “I suppose I will merely have to wait for the judgment to be placed on his soul at death. I think the Gods will quite dislike him,” he grumbled, but there was some glee in the idea that the man would not be allowed anywhere near himself, his lover, or his son in death.

She laughed softly, but she drew him to her, and she kissed him softly, lingering on his lips. “I love you, Ahk,” she said, breathing it. “Don't hate him for me. My only care is that he doesn't get out and do this to anyone else. He doesn't matter anymore.” His deeds still affected her, true, but she had made herself let go of him. She made herself be free of it, as much as she could, and she didn't want to cling to the event, she didn't want to let her hate fester, and she had enough scars to carry without the burden of hatred.

He studied her for a time, but he found himself smiling, and he kissed her back. “You are wise, little queen,” he breathed. “I will do my best.” He paused, suddenly, and he grinned at her, “And I love you, too.”

Somehow, hearing those little words soothed her nerves, and she smiled at him, drawing him in to her arms, clutching him, but she knew they must see his father soon. At last, she tugged gently at his neck, leaving a soft little kiss on his cheek, “We have things to do, love. Shall we?”

When he nodded, she pulled away from him carefully, and little Evan almost instantly took her place; he leaped at his father, giving him an immense hug, and once the pharaoh had time to pull on his robe, beads, and crown, they departed; her mother promised she would be somewhere in the museum, but she was going to explore again.

Shepseheret was, once more, the one waiting for them, and she first hugged (Name), asking if she was alright, and then she took Evan from Ahkmenrah. Merenkahre took the tablet—which (Name) had carried—and immediately began to twist the tiles, angling them carefully, and Shepseheret watched him as she spoke to her son and daughter-in-law, “Your father says that this may cause both of you great pain,” she said slowly, distinctly. “And we have no idea how long it might take. It would be best if we began now,” she added, knowing her husband was concentrating on the task at hand. “The tablet has carried memories in to the figures in museums, and in to us, and it causes us no pain, because they are our own...but this may not be the case for you,” she said, addressing (Name) directly. “Are you certain you are ready for this?”

“I survived last night,” she said, nodding. “I think...I think I'll be fine. Besides, I don't...I can't just...leave him in the dark. The world is so complicated now, and it's not...it's not easy, even for someone born in this era. I can't do that to him, when he's giving up so much,” she said, growing more determined with each word.

Shepseheret nodded, and she squeezed her son's hand tightly; she didn't have to ask if he was ready, for she saw it on his face, and she knew how deeply he loved the woman at his side. Their first night, he had talked endlessly about his wife, and about his son, telling both his parents as much as he could, and he had been nearly trembling with excitement and love for the two. She had known, then, that whatever would happen, he would follow them. “Very well,” she said, and she gestured toward the floor. “I suggest the floor, so that, if you happen to fall...well, we wouldn't want either of you injured,” she offered.

Evan, even in his grandmother's arms, looked worried, and he watched his parents take a seat, facing each other, knees touching. He saw them kiss, a soft, lingering one, before, at last, Merenkahre approached; he had only one hand on the tablet, holding it by the top, and the tiles were turned in a complicated, yet distinct order. He lowered it slowly between them, “(Name), you must take it first. Grasp it here, and here,” he said, gesturing with his free hand, and she slid one hand in to the opening of the middle tile on the side nearest her, and she instantly felt the electricity crackling from her hand, singing her nerves up her wrist and twisting up through her neck and in to her head—she felt a migraine coming on again, and slammed her eyes shut, barely managing to grip the other hand on to the tablet.

Ahkmenrah wanted to help, wanted to stop her pain, but he knew she was set in her choice, so, at last, he mimicked her grip, and he felt it, too; the burning, sizzling sensation that felt like boiling water was seeping through his brain, and he instantly admired his wife all the more; she hadn't made more than a small groan at the sensation, but he swore in his native language and hissed between his teeth, slamming his eyes shut. 

When the spots behind his eyes began to diminish, he heard soft singing in his head. It was...familiar.

_Hum dum dandee..._

It was the song she'd given him when the tablet was nearing death, but it was not her voice. He could feel something soft beneath his left shoulder, and he felt warm.

The sensations began to become clearer, and he realized he was seeing (Name)'s memory through her own eyes. He was a little girl, curled in a ball, tears on her face, afraid, and her mother had her arm around her. She was in bed with her mother, and the older woman was exhausted and barely able to hum the soft lullaby, but he felt calm and sleep creeping up.

She'd had a nightmare.

He saw her back yard, wide and green, and she was chasing butterflies, laughing. A cat meandered past, and she followed it, petting it when it finally stopped. The sky was clear and the air was perfect and the memory was of nothing in particular; it was just happy.

He saw her reflection in the mirror in passing, and watched her grow; he saw her mother work hard and care for her, and watched her father leave every day for work. He saw the man the way (Name) did. She loved her father dearly, and he clearly loved her, but he saw the way she had begun to judge her memories. She saw him acting poorly toward people of other races, and watched him sneer at couples of the same sex. As a child, it had just been her father, but as an adult, she judged him; she thought it rude and foul and, though she loved her father, she knew his behavior wasn't right. But her memory, living in it with her, showed a man who loved his family and cared for his daughter in the best way he could.

He saw his lover attend school, and he saw her bullied. She was intelligent, and other children made fun of her. He watched her try to make friends, only to feel excluded, and when her body began to change, he saw the way people made fun of her.

But she moved on, and made the so-called friends that had dragged her to New York when he'd first met her. (Name) didn't see it, but he did; they were poor friends, lying to her, choosing each other over her, no matter what she did to gain their attention. She gave them gifts and they took them, but never gave her the affection she needed; every child needed a friend, and they were poor excuses for what she needed.

He watched her life pass quickly; he saw her childhood in minutes, and watched her father grow sick. He saw her grandmother take her in while her mother went to the hospital with her father.

He saw her father in a hospital bed, wired up and forced to breathe with a machine.

She was old enough to understand what it was, now, and through her eyes, Ahkmenrah knew, too. Through her eyes, he'd learned history, and science, and learn the patterns of the world.

And he knew this was the moment she lost her father.

Time slowed. He felt her, little and lithe and scared; she felt like a child again, though she was a teenager now. She had to make herself walk in to the room.

Her father couldn't talk. She couldn't even see him smile at her through the mask, but she felt his big, rough hand take hers, and squeeze, and though she now saw that he wasn't always the best person...he was her father.

Ahkmenrah felt like he'd had his heart torn out when the grip fell slack, and the most awful noise rang in his head. He wanted to scream...or was it (Name)? The piercing beep felt like a sword going through his brain and time stopped.

She didn't function, for a long time. She and her mother lived sparsely and she barely attended school. Her friends brought her gifts, showing, just once, true worry...but only time would mend the gaping hole left in her chest.

Time passed. She began to heal, and she became stronger. When she was old enough, she took a job, and spent late nights on homework, barely sleeping.

She graduated.

He could feel the knowledge seeping in to him, slowly, as she earned it, yet it was fast—the tablet was giving him everything that she held in her brain, but he could feel gaps of time where she had nothing truly remarkable to remember.

He saw her reluctantly agree to go out one night with her friends, and something in him prickled...or was it her own distaste for the memory?

Her friends were drinking—they were old enough, but (Name) had a few months to go, so she was the designated driver—and she was curled in the corner of a booth, listening to music, her nose buried in a book, wishing desperately to go home. She couldn't shut out all the noise, and one of her friends and her boyfriend were nearly suffocating her in the corner, despite how small she tried to make herself.

When his hands wandered from his girlfriend on to (Name), she ducked under the table and stepped outside, her heart hammering in her chest, wanting to leave.

But she was too nice, and wouldn't leave her friends without a ride home.

A man approached, and Ahkmenrah knew, instantly, who it was. She'd described him only once, yet it came back to him in an instant. He was around her age, and had short, dirty blonde hair, and light hazel eyes. He was only barely taller than (Name), and so pale he looked unhealthy. He was a scrawny man, though not entirely unattractive—(Name) hadn't fled at the sight of him.

Indeed, he had a charming smile and had managed to perfect a look of gentility when he approached her, asking if she was okay, coaxing her in to talking, making her feel wanted.

She'd never felt wanted.

Only used. People only talked to her when they needed her. When they wanted something out of her, and then she was as appealing as orange juice after toothpaste.

He charmed her, and played nice, and he saw through her eyes; Ahkmenrah saw that he was sweet and kind and wanted her, but the part of him that was not experiencing the events, the part of him that was left to process things, wanted to kill him.

Viciously.

He saw the look in the monster's eyes, the way he eyed her like prey, the way he pushed her boundaries. He saw her push him away when his lips would go too far down her neck, or pull his hands away, telling him he was going too far, but he always pushed, and pushed, and he saw her always protest...but he saw her self-doubt, the want to be loved. He saw her wish, longingly, for someone who cared for her; her friends hardly spoke to her and she needed someone other than her mother.

His own skin crawled when he felt the bastard's hand on her back, fingers pushing beneath the band of her jeans, and he wanted to vomit when he kissed her.

But (Name) didn't know better, then, and though she now regretted her time with him, she had enjoyed it...until he pushed too far.

She began to doubt him, too, but it was too late.

He had conditioned her in to loving him, and it made Ahkmenrah sick, the way he manipulated her. He made her feel like he needed her, too, and (Name) had always been vulnerable to helping people. She had always cared too much, and he'd taken her for everything she had.

He watched the bastard tie her around his finger and bind her in a too-small cage and torment her emotionally and mentally. He watched her begin to doubt and fear and it made him sick.

If he had a stomach, he might have retched a hundred times.

Then he saw the night come, and the terrible memory slowed, as it had when she lost her father. Her happy memories seemed fast and fleeting, yet the foul ones lingered like a stain on her soul, and this one was worse than her father.

He felt the bastard's hand on her, he felt the sloppy kiss on her mouth, he felt his fingers bruising on her skin and his teeth on her throat, and he felt her physically push him away from her, felt her rise and walk away, and watched him storm out.

And later, he watched him come back. He could taste the wine in her mouth and he could feel the drugs taking over; he could feel her senses dull and she hadn't known until it was too late. She thought it was just the drowsiness from the wine, but when she tried to push him away again, she'd been barely in control.

His mouth felt slimy and his hands were bruising. He felt her crying, slurring, begging him to stop, tears rolling down her face, unable to breathe through the crying. He felt tape on her mouth, and she nearly suffocated as she fought, helplessly, to try and push him away.

But her arms were jelly and she was weak, and the scrawny monster took her until the torment took her under; she couldn't bear it, couldn't watch, couldn't stand it any more, and only unconsciousness spared her pain. She was bleeding and bruised and his nails had cut her, his teeth left marks all over her skin, and she couldn't walk; she was in too much pain and she didn't want to live.

But her mother found her. Her mother found her, weak, bleeding, crying, purple and black and blue, and called for an ambulance.

She was sick for days and wouldn't eat; the doctors that took care of her had to keep a nurse by her to make sure she didn't try to remove the things giving her the necessary nutrition to live. They gave her medicine that would, hopefully, keep her from getting pregnant, and kept her until she calmed down, feeding her medication so that she wouldn't try to hurt herself, for the first few days.

But she didn't want to live.

He heard her mother's muffled voice, begging her to stay; she'd lost her husband, and she couldn't bear to lose her daughter, and it was the only thing that kept (Name) going.

Just to keep her mother from having to endure that pain.

She wished she could hate him. She wished she could blame it all on him, but she felt weak, and stupid, and couldn't fathom why he'd done what he'd done. Was it her? Had she been too slow? Had she been too much of a prude?

The thoughts enraged Ahkmenrah, and he would admit his mild jealousy as he'd seen her falling for him, but more than jealousy or rage, he wanted to erase him. He wanted to erase that monster, because he had tormented his lover. He wanted her to never have to remember the evils he'd done, and he wanted to help her forget the feeling of his awful touch, the way he treated her.

He admired her all the more for her comfort and trust in him; in her place, he was not sure he would ever have let another man touch him. Not for a long time, and it would take more than a few nights to allow one to kiss him. But she trusted him; she had even allowed him to trap her with his weight on a wall and kiss her breathless.

But all the same, he wanted to gather her to him and bind her in his warmth and safety; he wanted to protect her from the foul memories, and he knew she still felt them. He had seen her react with her headache. He saw her panic.

He wanted to show her how perfect she was, how _loved_ she was, and he intended to do just that, every day he had with her. He would help her, he would show her that there was nothing wrong with her; only with the bastard that had raped her. He was demented. He was deformed, and evil, and cruel, and there was nothing wrong with her. Only with him.

The police came in; they'd already been, to ask her questions, but her memories of that were bland and fuzzy; it was a quiet buzzing of questions and her blank, empty responses that were so blunt he felt his chest ache. But now, they said they had enough evidence, just from her, to put him away for a very, very long time, if she would work with them.

That woke her. That made her want to fight, because her heart couldn't stand the thought of someone else feeling so empty and hateful toward themselves.

She dragged herself out of the pit she'd dug, running away from reality, and though she carried self-hatred and depression like her own, dead body on her back, she began to heal.

Her friends talked her in to the “vacation” she'd met Ahkmenrah on, and he watched them drag her to a club where she hid in a corner and began to panic.

He watched her leave, and her memory slowed again.

He saw the museum. He saw the dinosaur and felt his mind blank; the panic and fear slipped lower and she tried to comprehend what she saw, and then, he heard Larry.

He heard her talking to him, and felt himself, smaller, walking at the night guard's side.

Then, he saw himself.

To her, he was tall and handsome and confident, and he felt the instant magnetism awaken in her, as he had felt himself. She didn't recognize it, with her mind racing through a thousand thoughts and worries, but he knew, then, that she'd felt the attraction, too.

He heard his voice through her ears, low and soft and rhythmic, a soothing little drum beat that drew her thoughts from her panic. She remembered everything about that night; she even remembered the feeling of his warmth when he held her, and the way the muscles of his arms flexed as he'd lifted her on to the bench.

He heard her thoughts through the night, a random, yet forceful thought that she _couldn't have a crush on a mummy!_ as she tried to remind herself, and it made him smile, at last, because it was a pleasant memory, to think that she had already begun to favor him.

But day drew close, and he watched her leave with Larry, and change hotels; he saw her sleep, the best sleep she'd had since her rape, and then he heard the phone call.

He felt her emptiness open like a gaping wound, and he felt the same panic rise, the urge to run, the despair and hate and fear, and he felt her heart beat too hard and fast and heard her panting when she ran. He felt her muscles burn and her skin freeze, and then...the museum. She was there again, and she saw him; he saw her eyes focus on his mouth when he bit his lip, grinning at her, and he felt her heart jump for a different reason.

He saw her crying on the roof and felt the despair rising higher. He felt the discordant screeching of her thoughts, hissing that she didn't want to live, that she would rather be dead, yet her mother's voice came to beg her to stay.

Her mind was chaos and fear and he felt that it might tear him asunder, until he felt warm hands on his skin, pulling, and then arms around him, and warmth on his shoulders, and he realized that the cacophony of her thoughts fell short.

It was him. It was him, through her eyes, and at once, he felt better; her thoughts began to cease and she focused on him, she cried, and emptied herself until she had no tears left, and he'd let her.

He was glad, now, that he hadn't made her go inside. He was glad he'd let her get it out then.

He saw himself comfort her, hold her, and then, he felt the tablet react to her; he felt the jolts she'd endured, and the pain when she awoke.

The memories were faster now, and he felt her body swelling with Evan's growth. He felt her fear diminish and love grow in its place.

His birth caused pain...but then, she had him in her arms, and _nothing else mattered._

He saw his own eyes in the child's face, even as tiny as the little boy was, and peace fell on her.

_“Hello,” she whispered, cradling him against her, exhausted. “Hello, baby,” she murmured again, wondering at his wide eyes, taking her in, his little fist gripping the hospital gown she wore. “You're my little miracle, buddy,” she whispered, and the child watched her intently._

He saw her coo and speak to their son as long as the nurse allowed, and she named the little boy as soon as she had her phone; she needed to find just the right name.

Evan, for he was a miracle from God, and though she didn't yet understand...in her heart, she knew it was true.

The little figure returned home with her shortly, and she attended him closely.

She hummed to him, rocking him in her arms, and read to him often, though he didn't yet understand. She played soft music for him, and when he awoke in the middle of the night, she woke with him.

Ahkmenrah watched his son grow through her eyes, and saw her singing the lullaby to him every night, until he was old enough to sleep on his own, and when he had a nightmare and came to her, she always soothed him with it.

He watched her play with him every day, read to him, teach him, and she gave the child all the love in her heart, for she feared she might burst if she didn't.

The men she'd dated, briefly, all passed with barely a note on her memory.

He watched her grow stronger, and change, and he nearly burst when he saw her confidence and strength. She was incredible.

Then, as their son grew, her mind often brought forth Ahkmenrah's image; Evan was looking more like the pharaoh each day, and when she could no longer deny the resemblance, she finally gave in, planning her vacation in New York with her son.

He saw Larry's shocked face, and time slowed again, until he was lifting her off the floor, and she was laughing, and her heart leaped in recognition when she found him again. It was like electricity, jump-starting her heart, and when he kissed her, he felt it.

He felt it arch between them and felt her fight the incredible urge to kiss him back, but she hadn't been able to resist. He felt his own skin beneath her hands and felt her nerves jump at the touch of his hand in her hair.

He watched her fall in love with him in a week, and he felt her fear for the future. He felt her joy when they were married, and his heart ached at the nightmares she suffered in his absence.

He relived their conversations from her side, late nights when she was curled up in her bed, slurring her words at him, but her mind floating with happy, excited emotions for the chance to speak to him.

He saw their son grow, and begin questioning her about him, and he understood, suddenly, why she had been so flustered when she'd called him on the night they planned his surprise.

He saw her, overjoyed, when their son reacted so well to finding out Ahkmenrah was his father, and he felt greedy, wanting more time, right then, with them. Though he could see Evan's youth through her memories, it was not the same.

He watched Evan running toward himself on that first night, calling him “Daddy,” and he nearly burst again for the memory.

Her contentedness was perfect, and he was elated by how happy she was with him.

But her memories were slowing again, and he watched himself through her eyes in the planetarium; he saw her looking in the mirror, awed, and humbled, and he felt her wonder. He listened to himself talk through her view, and he realized that, as much as she loved music, a part of her brain took in his voice in a rhythm that soothed her.

Then, he was kissing her again, and this time, he felt the heat in full; he felt her ache and want, and he felt the tingle that flared in to her belly at the soft bite on her lip. He felt her soft little shudder when his lips were on her neck, and his rough, unfamiliar language made the ache and pressure between her thighs worse.

He felt her want him, he felt her ache for his touch and when her hands slipped over his back, he nearly dropped the tablet; she wanted him, she trusted him, and she would have given herself to him, if they'd had the chance, he was sure.

It was, perhaps, one of the most gratifying memories he'd seen, if only for knowing her trust in him. She had not once felt uncomfortable with him, not in all of her memories, and that was an incredible feeling, though he could feel his own ache for her, now; he wanted to prove his worth and trustworthiness, and he wanted to love her as she deserved.

He wanted to replace the memory of her monster with the memory of her lover; he wanted to show her what she deserved, and to give her the pleasure she had been so cruelly deprived of in the past. He would properly love her, one day, in the way she deserved, and he would take his time and assure that she was alright with everything he did; he would never want to discomfort her, would never want to remind her of her rape, and he would take all the time needed to show her that he truly loved her, and would never, ever hurt her.

But that memory faded in to the next; seeing him, faint, and the green stain on the tablet, and he saw her sleepless night, and her sickness, and her fear. He saw her nearly sick with worry and he watched her fight at his side; he saw the new museum through her eyes and he saw her rage and impatience toward Lancelot turn to hatred and he thought, indeed, that she might have murdered him, if she had not been supporting Ahkmenrah with her body.

He saw the world through her, he felt his brain trying to accommodate all the information she held, and even when the final memories—grasping the tablet—passed in to him, he felt his head spinning. It was a strange feeling, to experience her memories through her; he had felt her pain as his own, he had seen himself through her eyes, and had even felt the changes in her body as she carried Evan.

She had knowledge that he didn't; street signs and the scent of chlorine in a pool, the feeling of grass between her toes and the spray of the ocean washing up to her ankles. She had knowledge earned from living in this time, not merely from reading about the changes of history and the turning of the world, the advancements.

His ears rang with the hum of fluorescent lights above them, and he heard the ventilation softly rumbling.

He had even tasted with her; her breakfast that day was sweet in a way he'd never tasted, and he thought he might never have enough strawberries, when he could finally have them himself.

It was overwhelming, but as the information filtered in to him, finding its proper place, the spinning slowed until he didn't feel so dizzy; merely aching with a pain his new knowledge named a _migraine._

When he felt the pain slow and his mind settle, he pulled, slowly, away from the tablet, and his fingers tingled and shook, until, at last, he made them move, and the tablet fell between them, on to their knees, and he saw (Name) shaking violently, when he managed to open his eyes. He saw tears on her face and her arms recoiled, wrapping around her stomach, and she looked pale.

He reached for her, carefully, his fingers brushing softly against her cheek, “(Name)? Shall I collect your mother?” He was worried, of course; his lover had endured much in the past few days and nights, and he wanted to care for her. The pain splintering through his skull mattered little.

She surprised him when she reached around him, beneath his cloak, and on to his back. Her lithe fingers traced along the outer edge of his spine, until she found the small, raised flesh of a scar, rigid beneath the pads of her fingers, and he inhaled sharply, unable to resist from reaching out and grasping her elbow, a little too tightly, but she'd shocked him, and that was...that was... _sensitive,_ in too many ways. “(Name)...”

Her pupils were blown wide—barely any of her iris could be seen at the edges, and she looked pale and horrified. “He made you...he...killed you, he poisoned you to torment you and then murdered you with...with _this_?”

Ahkmenrah froze in place. He stared at her, wide-eyed, and she felt his hand shake on her arm, his grip nearly bruising when it tightened. “How...?”

“The...the tablet. It didn't just...it didn't just...” She was stuttering and trying to sort her thoughts out. “A door can be...can...a door can be walked through both ways...can't it...?” She paused, thinking over her words. “When my memories began to leave...yours began to enter,” she breathed.

He stared at her, shocked, and his grip fell slack, “You...you saw...?”

“...Your childhood, and your home, and your brother...I felt you dying when he poisoned you, and then...then I felt...I felt him...stab you.” The words made her pale further, and she shook all over. “I felt the life leave you...and I saw you awaken in your own tomb.” Her finger had begun to trace the small slit of a scar in his flesh, “And...and at the museum, you—”

“That is in the past,” he declared, firmly. “All in the past. This is what matters...isn't it?”

She stopped, shivering again, but she reached up to him, with both hands, cupping his cheeks, “You are...so strong, and...brave, and Ahk, I...” She couldn't speak, and she just held him, until, at last, her body took over where her mind could not—she pulled him in for a kiss, not enough to push him to the edge of sanity with heat, but one that evoked an entirely different feeling. It was passion, but there was respect and admiration in it, a tingling feeling of respect and appreciation, and she clutched him, kissing him until they were both breathless. “I did not think I could love you more,” she breathed, clinging to him. “You prove me wrong each day,” she said, her voice soft.

Though his head was still hurting and he was still overwhelmed and puzzled by the tablet's reaction, he had reacted; he'd drawn her in with an arm, the other going behind her head, tangling in her hair, keeping her close, and even after she had freed him and spoken, he could not find the will to set her free. “I think you are far stronger than I,” he said, his voice soft. “I did not have to live with my demon, little queen,” he breathed. “And I was not coerced in to loving him,” he added. “But I love you, too, (Name),” he said, his voice lowering and softening, barely a breath against her lips. “So much that I fear it might tear me asunder.”

She smiled at him, slowly, but she couldn't bring herself to let go of him. She had lived inside him, as he had her; she saw his brother's resentment from his birth, his jealousy, the way he grew to hate Ahkmenrah. She watched, at the declaration that Ahkmenrah would take the throne, Kahmunrah's rage...and she felt his poison. It was slow and deliberate and the elder man spent years slowly killing her love; watching him grow sick and ill slowly, and she felt the foul wretch's knife. He'd slipped in to Ahkmenrah's bedchamber and had given a monologue that was torture in itself, and then had rolled his little brother on to his side and shoved a knife in to his spine; the aorta there had gushed blood and (Name) had felt, on top of the illness from the poison, the wicked feeling of blood loss, the dizziness and nausea. She'd felt him dying, slipping away from life, and she _felt_ the life and vigor leave his body. She felt him die.

She'd seen his childhood, his lessons and his growth; she'd seen him spoiled and loved by his parents, and that his people loved him. She even felt things that she wished she hadn't; Ahkmenrah was youthful, indeed, but practices of the time were far more relaxed, and the pharaoh had been offered concubines...and obligated to indulge at least once, to prove his willingness. A ruler, after all, needed to continue his line.

She was jealous, though she hated to admit it, and she knew she had no reason; it was in the past...and he had found it boring, at best. He hadn't enjoyed his experience; the woman was too eager to have Ahkmenrah, and he had not been enthused.

Yet she had felt the way he kissed her; she felt the sparks in him and the ache in his belly. She felt him _want_ her, she saw the images in his mind, the wants of his body; he wanted to taste her skin and make her voice—which he already loved—lower and raspy. He wanted to feel her bare flesh and he wanted to make her forget the torment she'd endured.

He wanted to love her.

She felt that ache and desire, could see the images in his mind when he couldn't control his wayward thoughts and it made her own want grow. He wanted (Name), and she wanted him, and she knew that, one day, she would gladly give all of herself to him.

But now wasn't the time. Now, she wanted to keep him close, and safe, wanted to hold him in her arms, and be assured that his brother could not near him ever again.

It was worse than her rape; it had been brief, and she had been drawn out of her own dark pit by her mother, and the want to keep anyone else from enduring the same. But Ahkmenrah had suffered for long years, without a reprieve, only to have his brother kill him with a single knife wound.

She longed to comfort and protect him.

She clutched him tighter in her want, and she pressed her lips to his ears, promising she would always protect him.

He smiled, nuzzling her temple softly, and he pressed a gentle kiss to her skin. “And I you,” he vowed.

A soft sigh escaped her, and she snuggled in to him, closing her eyes, “I love you, Ahk.”

Those little words brought him to grinning, unable to help it, and he let her settle in to him, wanting her close, too. “I love you, too, (Name).”

She sighed, melting in to his arms at those words, but she was surprised when she felt smaller arms around her, and around her husband, and she couldn't contain a laugh, releasing Ahkmenrah with one arm, to wrap it around their son, “I love you, too, Mama!” When she grinned at him, leaning in to softly kiss his forehead, he turned to his father, “And you, too, Daddy.”

Ahkmenrah immediately shifted, drawing Evan between the two of them, and he kissed the top of his son's head gently, “We love you, too, Evan,” he said, meaning every word. “So very much.”

“Definitely,” (Name) affirmed, and with her husband, she merely held her son, the three bound in a tight embrace.

**_ End Chapter _ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit...vague and messy, I admit, but Ahkmenrah received her memories as she remembers them; in bits and pieces, not as a whole. In the same respect, (Name) received his memories in small chunks.
> 
> To that, I must admit that I don't know what Kahmunrah's murder preference would have been, but considering his resentment and jealousy toward Ahkmenrah, I imagine him poisoning his brother, just to watch him suffer, and then giving an irritating, cliché monologue before murdering him himself. 
> 
> Anyway, I want to thank you all again for your patience in waiting for this chapter. You're wonderful, and I truly appreciate it.
> 
> I fear the next chapter might be equally—or worse—delayed, due to my job, as it's going to be busier than usual, and I'm afraid I'll be far too exhausted to give you a chapter you deserve. I apologize in advance.
> 
> As always, comments, questions, and suggestions are all gladly (and thankfully!) accepted.


	15. Chapter Fifteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  ** _DISCLAIMER:_** I do **NOT** own _Night at the Museum_ , or any of its contents, characters, actors, ideas...or anything at all related to it. I never have, and I never will. This is written for fun. I’m dirt poor, so sorry. This is for my entertainment and for those who read this.
> 
> I also don't own anything remotely recognizable in the story; music, devices, brand names or anything; if you recognize it, I don't own it. I make nothing off of anything. None of my works provide me a profit. Basically, **_I own absolutely nothing._** Point blank.
> 
> I must apologize to all of you, sincerely.
> 
> I hit an absolute road block on this chapter. Not even a pause, but like...the great wall of A Moment of Magic that could not be gone around until I reached the sea.
> 
> It's been nearly two months, I know, and that is an utterly ridiculous long time to take for a single chapter, but I have, and I truly apologize. I typed nearly six pages and then I slammed in to a wall of diamond, and I could not bring myself to force the chapter. I want to give all of you my best, and to force my writing is...well, it's less than all of you deserve. But Larry (the culprit, in this case) has finally cooperated, and I can, _at last_ give you this chapter.
> 
> It's not the greatest chapter I've written, but I admit it was a bit of a difficult one—I'll admit it's a bit of filler, but it's because I want to give the characters the respect they deserve. The next chapter will be focused entirely on that, and you'll understand what I mean at the end of this one.
> 
> Again, I am so, so very sorry, and barring another bout of writer's block (which I don't feel I'll have—the muse has returned!), the next chapter should be out within a couple weeks, given that my job doesn't steal my time.
> 
> Thank you all for your dedication and patience.
> 
> Also, if you notice, I've put an ending number of chapters up. This is...speculative. I _think_ there will be two more, after this, _but_ I've been known to surprise myself, and, indeed, there may yet be three more, knowing how much I go on and on.
> 
> Thank you all again, and I offer another apology, and the new chapter.

**_ Chapter Fifteen _ **

Merenkahre surprised them immensely by allowing them to stay like that for some time, and Evan fell asleep that way. The child, after all, was too young to endure so many late nights, and on this one, he had the comfort of both his parents to lull him to sleep.

At last, however, he softly touched his son's shoulder, and Ahkmenrah carefully pulled back, allowing Evan to cuddle up to his mother, though he was still halfway splayed across his father's lap, too. He lifted his head to his father, “Yes?”

“Dawn approaches, and the lady guard informed us that you will be returned to New York sometime tomorrow; they've nearly completed the 'job' they were assigned. I must show you how to arrange the tablet to give yourself the life you desire,” he said, and there was a certain sadness in his voice.

Ahkmenrah knew that sadness for himself, for he knew that he would miss his parents, and his friends...but he knew, too, that it would be worth it, to spend his life with (Name) and Evan. He loved them so very dearly, and having seen (Name)'s memories, he knew that he would never change his mind. He waited until (Name) managed to pull their son in to her lap fully, and at last, he stood. “Thank you, Father,” he said, meaning it.

Merenkahre nodded, but he began to twist the tiles again, showing his son, distinctly, what to do, and informed him that, at dawn's approach, he would merely need to step outside, holding the tablet, and he would be granted true life again.

He made his son practice, for some time, to assure that he knew the proper arrangement for the tiles, and when it seemed he had it memorized, he nodded. He was surprised when (Name) approached them, and, though Evan was in her arms, she bowed, “If this is his last night here, I think you should spend it together.” Her voice was soft, and they heard emotion in it; after all, she now carried Ahkmenrah's memories. She knew how he loved his parents. “And Evan needs sleep, so I can take him to the hotel to rest, so you can have this time,” she offered.

Ahkmenrah was torn, but now knew his wife's mind well. She thought of others before herself, and she also knew that, shortly, he would be with them all the time. He hesitated, but he wrapped one arm around her, leaning in to kiss her cheek softly, “Thank you, little queen,” he breathed.

She turned her head, catching his lips with hers, and he melted in to her; her memories lingered in his mind, and when she kissed him that way...well, he loved her all the more. She trusted him, and it was an incredible thing. “I love you, Ahk. I'll arrange a flight to head back to New York tomorrow, too,” she said, her voice soft. “I'll meet you at the museum.”

He kissed her again, wanting that feeling of completion that came with her soft kisses, the trust she had in him. He nuzzled in to her, but he looked at the child in her arms, and he couldn't resist; he gently shook his son's shoulder, until he sleepily lifted his head, “Daddy?”

“Hey, buddy,” he said, keeping his voice soft. “Mama is going to take you to the hotel,” he explained, “And I wanted a goodbye hug, until I can see you tomorrow night,” he murmured.

The little boy rubbed his eyes, but he reached for his father, and Ahkmenrah took the tiny figure in to his arms, holding him for a long moment, and he kissed his son's forehead softly. “I love you, buddy.”

“I love you, too, Daddy,” Evan managed, half-asleep, snuggling his father as his mind drifted back toward sleep. Ahkmenrah chuckled, but once the child was asleep, he gave the tiny figure to his wife carefully, and he leaned in for one last kiss, “I love you, (Name),” he breathed, smiling, though he suddenly reached beneath his sleeve, and he carefully released the clasp on the ribbon there. “I think they might find this a bit strange, should they see it,” he teased softly, and he circled her, fastening the necklace back in its proper place.

She kissed him in return, lingering against his lips, “I love you, too, Ahk,” she offered, her voice quiet. “And thank you,” she added, a rueful smile on her face. She almost wished he could keep it, for the comfort in case anything should happen, but she knew he was right. Still, she knew, too, that she must leave then, or she would never have the strength, so she backed away, their son in her arms, and she found her mother.

Flight arrangements were made and (Name)'s mother let the two sleep in as long as she could; she packed everything up again for them, and then woke them in just enough time to make the flight; they arrived near dark, and while (Name)'s mother took everything to the hotel, (Name) went to the museum with Evan's hand grasped firmly in hers.

The museum was locked.

Teddy was awake and motioned them toward the loading bay, and (Name) pulled Evan with her, and Teddy allowed her inside. “Our Pharaoh is returned, then?”

She smiled faintly at that name; Teddy, after all, greatly respected the young king. “He should be...you haven't seen him?”

“No...but it hasn't been long since we awoke,” he admitted. “I suspect he's in his display,” he offered.

(Name) turned, immediately, to go find her husband, and Evan ran at her side; he'd slept through the day and on the flight, and the child had restored much of his energy for that night. However, before they arrived, they heard screaming and gasping.

Her blood ran cold.

“Evan, baby, go and get Teddy, please,” she begged, crouching to meet his eyes.

“Why?”

“Please just do as Mama asks,” she said, rushed, and Evan saw the look in her eyes; he obeyed without further protest, and (Name) sprinted at top speed up the stairs and in to her lover's display.

“AHK! AHK!” She cried his name at the top of her lungs; it was he that was screaming, and it took a moment, and a few more tries, but finally, his screaming stopped. “Ahk, love, I'm here, it's okay,” she gasped out, tears threatening to spill from her eyes. She knew how frightened he must have been, how _terrified_ he must have felt, to wake and not be able to get out. “It's okay. I sent Evan to get Teddy. I'm going to try to move the lid, okay? I'm not sure if I'm strong enough, but I'm going to try, so just hold on,” she said, and even through the stone and his tight bindings, Ahkmenrah heard the trembling of her voice.

“(Name)?” His voice was shaking, too. “You...Evan didn't...hear me, did he?”

“He didn't know what it was,” she said softly. “Now, let me try to move this slab. I don't want you to be in there any longer,” she murmured.

He didn't want to be in there any longer, if he was being fully honest about the matter, but he knew how utterly tiny his wife was. He heard her deep breath, and then he heard a quiet grinding sound; the stone was sliding, but it was minimal. She gave a groan, “Holy shit, how did Larry move this?” It was muttered, and she stopped suddenly. “...Larry's not here,” she breathed. “That's why...that's why you're...”

“(Name)?” It was his voice, still trembling a little, but a little steadier; he could focus on her. “Wait for Teddy. It's too heavy for you, love,” he said softly, trying not to worry about Larry, and he took a deep breath, trying to ignore the foul scent of death on his wrappings. “Talk to me. That will help.”

She hesitated, “What shall we talk about?”

He turned his thoughts, distinctly, to her. He knew he wouldn't have long to wait, but it still felt an eternity, “Well, when I am a full human again, I should like to do many things,” he said, slowly, forcing his thoughts to that alone. “But the very first I would like to do is to give you a wedding. I have a strong feeling your mother would approve,” he offered, his voice warm.

She laughed, and that sound, alone, made his nerves settle, “Do you think so?” It was soft, and she was smiling—he could hear it. “I think she intends to spend her life savings on my wedding, my love, so are you sure you want to do that?”

He smiled, loving the teasing in her voice. “I saw the images of weddings in your mind...and I think that I would be delighted to see you as a bride,” he said, softly. “Though your beauty may kill me a second time,” he teased.

She laughed again, softly, but she shook her head, “Well, I think we have to wait and see what the tablet does, my love,” she murmured. “After all, you have no records in modern society. We might have to just find a little white sundress for me and get married in the back yard,” she teased, grinning.

His mind, though filled with her knowledge, still took a moment to align that picture in his mind, and it evoked a smile, “I'm not sure I would protest that, little queen,” he said, and his voice was soft and sincere.

She laughed softly, but her heart was fluttering at the idea. “Hmm. Well, I know something I intend to do, once you're alive,” she started, and the tone caught his attention.

His breath caught, but this time, it was not fear. It was curiosity. “Hmm?”

It was not king-like; it was just a hum of a response, but she heard the buzz of wonder beneath it. “Whether or not we're married by today's standards, my love, I intend to have a honeymoon with you,” she said, and his mind did not struggle so much to find the meaning to that. “And I mean to love you the way we both deserve,” she breathed.

Ahkmenrah's mind, with those words, was anywhere but his current predicament; even if she had said it merely to distract him from his entrapment, she had done exactly what he needed. His mind took the distraction she offered and wandered with it, grasping at the sensations he'd felt himself, and the ones he'd experienced in her memories; he wanted to evoke more pleasure for her, he wanted to give her the love and adoration she so deserved, and he knew, when he had the chance, he would gladly help her forget her terrible experiences. Of course, he knew that he would endlessly enjoy the chance to do such, and his mind drifted away to the feeling of her lips melding to his, the taste of her, and the feeling of her bare skin beneath his hands. She was soft, and warm, and he would gladly explore more of her.

He was brought from his thoughts when he heard the grinding sound return, louder this time, and Teddy's boisterous voice, “Just a moment, Pharaoh! We'll have you right out,” he assured, and the younger man heard the effort the president put in to freeing him.

He heard the clinking of the pins that had locked him in, and he felt the pressure of her hands on his wrist, pulling, and he sat up; she instantly reached out to unwrap his head, and he blinked at her, dazed for a moment, earning a little smile from his wife. She ran her hands over his hair soothingly, and then along his jaw, “Okay, love?”

He blinked in the sudden light, but as soon as he registered his freedom, he climbed free, trying hard not to shiver; she had distracted him, indeed, but now that he was out, he felt the adrenaline and fear buzzing through him and burning in his muscles. It was fight-or-flight, his new knowledge named, and he fought to push it down. He'd felt this in the past, but with (Name)'s information in his brain, things had new names, and he tried to adapt to what she used; if he was to live in this time, as normally as possible, her knowledge was what he should rely on.

He felt her arms wrap around him, and somehow, that, alone, slowed the racing of his heart, and he bent his head, nuzzling in to her hair. She always smelled wonderful, and he could feel her breathing against his chest, and he forced himself to match her rate, clinging to her until his heart finally calmed down. He gave a soft sigh, kissing her temple, down to her cheek, and finally found her lips; she kissed him willingly, lifting her head to meet him, and her fingers tangled in the short strands of his hair, holding him close; she couldn't grasp at his bindings very well.

Still, her comfort with him assured him, at that moment, that he was safe; this was not a nightmare, nor a dream, and he was free of his sarcophagus and could move as he wanted. His wife was in his arms, and his son, too, had to be close. He broke away first, gently, leaning his forehead against hers, and he gave a soft sigh, keeping his eyes closed, taking just a tiny, extra moment to calm himself down. At last, he turned to Teddy, “Thank you,” he breathed, and they all heard the genuine emotion in it.

“Of course, lad! I wish I had realized sooner, and I would have let you out, but it seems that your son is quite a runner,” he said, smiling.

Ahkmenrah looked down, and he spotted Evan waiting by one of the columns. He offered the child his arms, and Evan went to him, reaching up, and he gladly lifted the little boy, “Thank you, Evan,” he said softly.

Evan grinned at his father, “I ran as fast as I could. Mama asked me to,” he said, nodding.

“You did good, buddy,” (Name) said, reaching out to ruffle his hair, but she went to Teddy, touching his shoulder softly, thanking him; she explained that she wasn't strong enough, but Teddy merely waved it off.

“I don't understand why he wasn't already out,” Teddy admitted, flustered. “Larry's never left him in before.”

(Name) shook her head, seeing her husband begin to carefully unwrap himself; she knew he never favored his bindings. “Larry...must have...he must have been fired, or quit,” she breathed. “That's why I couldn't get in, and...and why Ahk was...”

Teddy's face fell instantly. “...I fear you may be right, (Name),” he said. “I didn't think of that. He's just...always here,” he added, but his face was growing sadder. “Last I saw him...I think he might have been saying goodbye,” he said, not needing to mention the rest; not simply goodnight, but goodbye. “I can't imagine why. Ahkmenrah was sure to return,” he went on, sounding thoughtful. “Surely he wasn't fired.”

(Name) frowned heavily, “I'll...I know where Nick goes to school,” she murmured. “I'll see if I can find him, tomorrow.”

The former president gave a heavy sigh, and he shook his head, “I hope he's alright,” he said.

“As do I,” Ahkmenrah offered, now properly dressed. “Larry has done well for all of us. I fear the tablet may have done ill,” he admitted, frowning. “I imagine that the few extra exhibits sneaking away may not have fared well, either,” he added, thinking.

Teddy chuckled, but it was somewhat dark, “Yes...I fear you may have a point, Pharaoh. I imagine the employees found out we were missing very early...I hope that Larry did not take the fall for that,” he murmured.

(Name) looked worriedly at her husband, and he carefully wrapped one arm around her waist, “If he should need anything, whatever might have happened, we will help him, of course,” he said, reading her mind easily.

She gave a soft sigh at that, and she lifted her head to press her lips beneath his jaw softly, “Thank you,” she breathed.

A little shiver flitted up his spine, but he merely smiled at her gently, kissing her temple, “Of course, (Name).”

“Hey, Ahk!” The cry came from the entry of his exhibit, and he heard Jed's signature whooping cry follow it. “You're back!”

Ahkmenrah couldn't help the grin that spread over his face. Though his beginnings at the museum had been no less than torture, once he had his freedom, he had found fondness and, in many cases, love, for his fellow exhibits, and that included the tiny figures of Octavius and Jedediah. Indeed, the tiny figures were precious to nearly all in the museum, and he found himself kneeling, offering his hand to the two little statues, and they held to his fingers once they had climbed on; he raised them, and his wife offered her shoulders for the little figures. “It seems I was brought in earlier today,” he said, once he'd allowed them to step off; they sat, carefully, on (Name)'s shoulders, able to grasp the material of her shirt to make sure they wouldn't fall.

“Where's Gigantor? We heard yer hollerin', Ahk.”

The miniatures couldn't see the look of concern on (Name)'s face, but they certainly saw it on Ahkmenrah's, “We fear he may not work here anymore,” he admitted, slowly, and he watched Jedidiah's tiny face fall in an instant.

“I think, perhaps, we should gather the others...we must explain what's going on,” Teddy said, before the others could begin to debate; Sacagawea and Attila didn't know, either. “Shall we, friends?”

The group began to explore the museum in slow fashion; they stopped and asked that their fellow exhibits all join them in the largest room they could, and, when Sacagawea joined them, (Name) explained to her, quietly, what was going on; the Shoshone woman did not deserve such a foul shock with the rest of the museum, as close as she was to the matter. Attila, too, heard the news before the rest of the museum; Ahkmenrah was kind enough to speak to him, before they would arrive and announce the news to everyone else.

After a time, with all gathered in the largest room they could, Teddy took the lead; he explained that, indeed, it seemed Larry was no longer employed by the museum, and, as far as they could tell, they had no new night guard, and insisted that they be on their best behavior, even without Larry there to encourage them. 

(Name) quietly touched her husband's hand, softly, and leaned in to his ear, breathing her question; should they tell the exhibits, while they were assembled, what was to happen? He subtly shook his head, and murmured, in his soft, low voice, that he thought it should wait; they were hearing enough for one night, but agreed that they should tell their dearest friends, at least.

As the exhibits filtered out the door and back to their own doings, Evan tugged, with great care, on his mother's arm; too much movement and their tiny friends would spill off. “Mama, will you carry me?”

“I will,” his father injected, quickly, and he leaned down to scoop his son up gently. “Mama is carrying Jed and Octavius. Is this okay?”

Evan nodded quickly, and he snuggled in to his father; it seemed sleepless nights had gotten to the child, and he wanted rest...but he wanted to be with his father, too. (Name) mouthed her thanks, smiling, and they wandered with the other exhibits for a time.

At last, Ahkmenrah suggested, with a little force, that they should approach his tomb; he wanted to speak with his friends. The miniatures on (Name)'s shoulders stiffened a little, but they all agreed, and returned to Ahkmenrah's tomb. The tablet, glowing brightly on the wall, made the pharaoh stop for just a moment. He had no doubts; he'd made up his mind. But he did think, briefly, about the gift it gave, not just to him, and he paused with a quick prayer.

Now, however, he asked the others to listen to him, and they agreed. He gently put his son on the stone slab they'd returned on to his sarcophagus, and he folded his cape, carefully, in to a little pillow for the now-sleeping boy. It wouldn't be very comfortable, but he wanted to address his friends with full sincerity.

He took in a breath, “My friends, I must be frank with all of you,” he said, keeping his voice gentle. He knew that they would support him, in the end, but it was no easy thing; after all, these were people that he loved very dearly, too. “While we were in London, Father told me that, if I wanted, I could become human again,” he said, and the next words were rushed, “living, even during the day—to be with Evan, and (Name).” He watched their faces; eyes grew wide and both Teddy and Sacagawea began to smile. Despite the words being in an unfamiliar language, Attila, too, was smiling. He waited, just a moment, but spoke after another breath. “And I intend to do so,” he said, his voice soft. “I want to spend my life with my family. I was murdered in my youth and I never had the chance to have my own family. I do not care that I will not be a pharaoh or...or about any of that. I mean to live, as a common man, with my wife and son. It is all I could ever want,” he said, rushed, the energy escaping in his words. “But I did not want to do so without speaking to all of you. My decision will not change...but I wanted to say goodbye,” he murmured. “You are all my dearest friends, and I do not think the world will be the same...but I have a family that I cannot bear to live without,” he admitted.

Surprising the pharaoh immensely, Sacagawea nearly leaped at him; he caught her with ease and she hugged him in an embrace that reminded him of his own mother, just for a moment, but she grasped him tightly and laughed. “Ahk, it is only right that you choose your son and wife,” she said, her words rushed, but soft. “All these many years, I have not had my own son in my arms...and, truly, I am merely Sacagawea's memories. It is strange to say, but I know her feelings. And I know she would have torn the world apart for her child,” she said, her voice soft. “You are right to choose your family, Ahk.”

Though surprised, Ahkmenrah did manage to hug the woman in return, shocked by the gesture, but relishing it immensely. So deprived of contact, locked in his sarcophagus, he had, since then, perhaps been a little too touchy; a brush here, a hand on a shoulder there, but he had nearly gone mad, locked up, alone. The contact with (Name) had been almost overwhelming, the first time he'd kissed her, but he'd known, immediately, that he wanted more. He was glad that she was not opposed to contact, as she often held his hand; he nearly always had some sort of physical contact with his wife, and it was soothing. This hug, too, helped, and he held on just a little longer than he probably should have; the other exhibits hardly ever did anything but touch his shoulder, if that. He smiled at her, widely, “Thank you.” The two words were not nearly enough, and he wanted, desperately, to say more, but they were all that came, bound up and overflowing with emotion, and Sacagawea grinned at him, nodding, seeming to understand.

Teddy was next. He, too, embraced the pharaoh, and this hug was nearly crushing; he could feel the president's strength and excitement in the grip. “Pharaoh! Ahkmenrah, my boy, I agree with her wholly. You should be with your family, son.” He paused, however, glancing between the two living humans, “But I detect that you seem to have something more behind this little meeting,” he said, and the tone was gentle; it opened the door for Ahkmenrah, for Teddy could tell that there was something else the king wanted to say.

The nerves that he had felt upon asking his wife to marry him, and when he had told Evan the truth, made a fierce return. He felt queasy, but suddenly, he felt a hand in his, fingers twining in to his own, and he felt the warmth of his wife press close, adding her hand on to his wrist; she was holding him, soothing him. Her thumb carefully wandered across his skin, back and forth, a motion that, while small, reassured him. “...When I do this...when I am living again, the magic will end,” he said, slowly. “Father said that it will consume all of the tablet's power to restore my life. It would mean that none of you would awaken again,” he admitted, his voice going quiet and sad.

The silence, this time, was thicker, but Attila reached out and grabbed, firmly, the shoulder nearest him; it was bare, with Ahkmenrah's cloak gone, and he squeezed the muscles. “You...have...a...family.” The words took time, and the older man struggled with them for a time; every eye in the room had gone to him and mouths were slightly open. “Family...is most...important. We...are wax, and memories,” he said, the words still difficult, but he was determined. They had seen what Attila's determination could do. “You...can live. Should live,” he added.

Through the sudden shock and surprise, there was a pause, but then Ahkmenrah began to grin, and he laughed. “You can speak English?”

Attila grinned at him, only slightly, and held up his fingers in an indication that he could speak a little of it, at least. The others, a little slower than the pharaoh, began to laugh a moment later, and the tension broke in the room.

In time, all the exhibits had told Ahkmenrah that his decision was right; they would be sad, yes, and miss life, indeed...but they would never know it, once it was done. They were museum exhibits, after all, Jedidiah said. They accepted it with ease, and they agreed, then, that (Name) should find Larry, and inform him, too. After all, he had made the museum what it was; he helped them begin to get along, and agree, and made them so much closer. The museum had been such a part of his life, too, that it seemed unfair not to tell him.

At last, with (Name)'s promise to find and tell Larry what was going on the next day, the exhibits knew that dawn was approaching. They headed toward their own locations, and (Name) and Ahkmenrah took Octavius and Jedidiah back to the diorama room, allowing the tiny men to climb off of their own volition. At last, (Name) walked her husband back to his exhibit, and he, alone, was strong enough to move the heavy slab of rock. Evan woke long enough to clamber to the floor and curl up again, sleepy, and (Name) saw, as her husband lifted the lid, that he was trembling. She could see the scar on his back, and she wrapped herself around him carefully from behind; she pressed her torso in to his skin and nuzzled him softly. “Not long, now, love,” she murmured soothingly.

He took a moment to just breathe, with her wrapped around him, and then turned and pulled her to him, kissing her fervently. “Thank you.” It was soft, breathed against her lips, and she smiled in to his kiss. “Might I...would you...aid me?”

It was a timid question, but (Name) knew what he wanted. She nodded, and she carefully wrapped him, with his instruction; she reluctantly closed the lid, at his insistence, and slid the pins in place, and his stone guards lifted the slab back to its proper place. She heard him breathing hard, and wanted not to, but she stayed, speaking to him softly, until, at last, dawn broke the spell.

She gathered her son in to her arms gently, and escaped the museum through the loading bay without incident.

Evan was left with her mother at the hotel room, and (Name), with some effort, managed to find Nick's school again; he left for lunch and she caught him, asking questions and, after some travel, she found Larry's apartment. She knocked on the door, stepping back so that she could be seen through the peephole.

Larry stared at her for several seconds, before he gathered his wits, “(Name)?”

“Yeah,” she said, smiling a bit sheepishly. “I...sort of quizzed Nick on your address. I...well, I suppose the first thing should be, do you have a few moments, perhaps?”

Larry, at times, seemed to have a delay on his brain—just a sudden, few-seconds-long blankness—before the gears started turning again. It took a moment or two, but he blinked at her, nodding, “Yeah. Is...everything okay?”

She hesitated, glancing down the empty hallway, and he realized what he was doing; he invited her in, and she leaned into one of his counters as he offered her a glass of water. “It's fine. The tablet's still doing good,” she added, suspecting his worry. “Ahk is back at the museum, and the others are happy, of course,” she continued.

Despite his skull being a tiny bit thick at times, Larry was an intelligent man, and his son was rather close to (Name)'s age. Therefore, it wasn't all that difficult to notice something was...off. He could read her behavior well enough. “But...?”

She looked a little cornered, but she gave him a little, placating smile. “But...Merenkahre gave Ahk the option to...live again,” she said, her voice soft. “But 'magic has a price,' as he told us several times...and when he becomes a living, breathing human again...the magic ends.” She hesitated, watching his face as he took that in. When his eyes began to widen, she spoke, slowly, “He hasn't, yet. He wanted to...see his friends again, and say goodbye,” she added. “And I think the others want to see you. They were worried. Jed looked like someone had put him in the stockade,” she added.

He hesitated for several long seconds, apparently thinking. “I can't go back,” he said, after several moments. “I told the chairman it was my fault.”

“I shouldn't be there, either, but I go, anyway,” she said, shaking her head. “They want to see you. Ahk wants to see you, Larry,” she insisted.

He paused, knowing she'd trapped him there. But the truth was, he'd said his goodbyes already—he knew he would get McPhee his job back. He'd made up his mind on the flight—the museum had been okay without him before, and it would survive again. Whether the pharaoh returned or not, Larry had made his goodbyes to everyone else. “I've already said my goodbyes,” he admitted, at last. “I knew I would, on the flight. I had to get McPhee's job back to him.”

She paused, but gave a soft sigh, thinking. “They want to see you...and they know the truth. They know Ahk is going to be a human again,” she explained. “I think...they want one last night,” she added, frowning. She was not as attached to the museum as Larry and Ahkmenrah were, and she knew that, but she knew the people within too well not to grieve that she would never speak to them again. They were, as they said, memories...but in those memories, they had become their own people, too. They had found themselves in the museum and come to accept that, indeed, though they were memories, they had their own lives.

(Name) knew that well. (Name) knew that they were people...but they had all decided, yes, that Ahkmenrah was doing the right thing. That he should be with his family. “Larry, I know how difficult it would be...but if you won't come, tell me, and I'll tell them. I don't want them to hope for you to arrive if I tell them that you would think about it,” she said, keeping her voice gentle. “But I know Ahkmenrah will want to see you, once he's...human again.”

The former night guard thought about that, giving a heavy sigh. He deliberated for several moments, but, at last, he shook his head, making up his mind. “I've said my goodbyes. It was hard enough then,” he admitted, knowing that she would understand. That he needed to admit it, to let her know that he might not have the strength to do it again. Those were his dearest friends, his entire life, for many years now. His family. “But...bring Ahk, when it's done. I can at least see him,” he said.

She smiled slowly, and she reached out to him, giving him a firm hug. “Larry, I know it isn't much, coming from me...but thank you, for what you've done for all of them,” she said, softly. “And for me,” she added, grinning.

He was surprised, but he let out a chuckle, returning her hug. “I just...did what I had to,” he said, a wry smile on his face, “for my son. It just happened that...it helped everyone else, too.”

She gave a knowing nod, “Yes...but even when you had the chance to leave for good...you came back.” At Larry's befuddled look, she smiled, “I have seen Ahkmenrah's memories. You were a successful inventor, for a time...but you chose the museum,” she explained. “So, I still thank you.”

He nodded, not quite knowing what to say, but at last, he smiled at her. “Just...uh...look after the pharaoh, would you? He might not adjust too easily,” he offered.

“Always,” she promised. “But I think I need to get some clothes for Ahk,” she said, her lips quirking in a crooked smile. “I don't think the crown and gems would pass well for him for very long,” she said, teasing.

This, at least, gave Larry a little laugh. “You're probably right,” he offered.

She nodded, and she gave him a last, tiny hug. “Thank you again,” she said, and at his mute nod, she let herself out.

When night fell at last, (Name) brought her mother and Evan to the museum. Her vacation was running out; she'd been gone nearly all of it, and had only tomorrow left. It would be nine days that she had been gone, and it was only due to saving up all her requested days off that she had gotten this long—her boss had been very kind and had given a little more than a week, considering Evan's birthday, but (Name) knew she would have to go back to work, and do it well. She would have another mouth to feed, and at that time, they didn't know how that was going to work out.

What would the tablet do? Would they get any help from it, aside from his restored organs? Surely the missing exhibit would seem...off, but...well, what could they do?

She brushed those thoughts aside, and was met with the sight of Ahkmenrah opening the doors of the loading bay. It seemed, this time, Teddy had gone to the pharaoh right away, and Ahkmenrah gladly met his wife with a kiss, and he took Evan happily from her arms, though his face fell when he saw that Larry wasn't there. “...Is the guardian alright?”

(Name) sighed as they slipped inside, dusting snow from their shoulders and hoods, “He's fine. He took the fall for the...mishap,” she admitted.

“He could have returned,” he returned, some worry still on his face.

“He...didn't want to say goodbye again,” she explained softly. “He knew he was going to take responsibility for the failure and he said goodbye to everyone the night they returned,” she murmured, giving another little sigh. “I'll tell the others. I know it's not really fair, but...I can't blame him,” she said, keeping her voice soft.

The pharaoh took in a deep sigh, but he understood. He knew how Larry felt, because, indeed, he didn't want to say goodbye, either. “Very well,” he acquiesced. “Let's go to the others. They were gathering everyone when I left to get you,” he explained.

(Name) gave a nod, and with her mother, the four headed to meet with the others; if this was to be their last night, (Name) wanted them to enjoy it. She didn't want it burdened with sadness.

Gathered in their largest room were all the exhibits; even the Mayans had arrived, though it had been with much coaxing and translation. The lions, mammoths, and other animals were spread throughout the room, and it was nearly too full, but Teddy, Sacagawea, Attila, and a few others had taken great care to keep the chaos and claustrophobia to a minimum.

(Name), her mother, and Ahkmenrah managed, with some effort, to get to the front of the room, and Ahkmenrah took the lead. He explained, as gently and slowly, yet as firmly as possible, the truth. He waited for translation between sentences, and for a time, the room was as silent as dawn. Then, there was a cheer from the tiny cowboys and Romans, and the room, after, erupted with surprising joy. Those that could speak in such a way that Ahkmenrah understood offered him elated congratulations, despite the result; they, like Jedidiah, knew what it meant, and were happy to accept.

After all, their life was lucky. They never would have had it without the pharaoh, and all agreed that, with this chance, and with his son, Ahkmenrah should take the chance by both hands.

In return, (Name) called for them to settle again, just for a little while, and she offered a final night—a night of celebration and joy, and a fond farewell for the man whose magic brought them to life.

The offer was well-received. The exhibits wandered the museum freely, but, in respect, kept their chaos to a minimum, and spent the night doing as they wished.

(Name), her mother, Ahkmenrah, and tiny Evan stayed in one room for the night, and received many well-wishes and hugs from exhibits, but they each noticed the definite absence of Teddy, Sacagawea, Attila, Jedidiah, and Octavius.

Ahkmenrah took a seat in a brief reprieve from their well-wishers, taking his turn with Evan; the child was young, and though (Name)'s mother had tried to take him to the hotel, he resisted, insisting without fail that he be there when his father was made whole once more. The child cuddled in to him, taking what rest he could, and snuggled deeply in to his father's chest, earning a little chuckle that, for a moment, erased the worry from his face. Still, once Evan's breathing had leveled again, he turned to (Name), frowning. “Do you...think that, perhaps, they are upset?”

(Name) shook her head immediately, swallowing her own doubt of the situation. “I'm sure they're just relishing this night, like the others,” she offered. “We'll see them soon, I know,” she assured.

Ahkmenrah nearly protested, but he was interrupted by Dexter climbing up his wife's leg, circling her back, and perching on her shoulder. The little monkey tugged on her ear once, and then hopped off, gesturing for her to follow, and Ahkmenrah's brows furrowed. “Something wrong, Dexter?”

Dexter motioned for the pharaoh, too, and when he wouldn't relent, at last, both (Name) and Ahkmenrah stood, following the little Capuchin through the museum.

They were greeted, at last, with a table, set with chairs, and a deck of cards, all placed in the guard's break room. Teddy grinned at them, “We thought you might want some quiet,” he offered gently. “Perhaps a hand of cards?”

(Name) burst in to laughter, “So that's where you've been,” she said, smiling. “Does everyone know how to play?”

“Larry afforded us some...games,” he said, smiling, “and we've learned a few.”

She couldn't help another little laugh. “...Rummy? I haven't played rummy in years,” she said, sounding ecstatic.

With a laugh, the others agreed, and (Name)'s mother took Evan and chose a seat on the couch, allowing the child to rest, and they played a few hands, relishing the quiet.

With the length of night that the season brought, they stayed for some time, but in the end, Teddy finally acknowledged that they must return to the rest of the museum.

They had to say goodbye.

**_ End Chapter _ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well. Decidedly not my best chapter, but now that it's done, I know better will follow. I know the next chapter will be a sad one, but I hope, in the end, that I can give all the characters the respect and attention they deserve—as in the movie, I think each character should have a proper goodbye, for they are Ahkmenrah's family. I want to give them that, and I mean to, no matter how long it takes.
> 
> That said, I think my muse as returned and I found the end of the blockade in my brain, so I think I shall be able to write properly again.
> 
> I hope you all enjoyed the new chapter, and again, I'm so sorry for the long delay.
> 
> As always, I shall gladly take comments, questions, and suggestions! I truly appreciate even the smallest input, as it makes my day in the best way.
> 
> Thank you all again.


	16. Chapter Sixteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  ** _DISCLAIMER:_** I do **NOT** own _Night at the Museum_ , or any of its contents, characters, actors, ideas...or anything at all related to it. I never have, and I never will. This is written for fun. I’m dirt poor, so sorry. This is for my entertainment and for those who read this.
> 
> I also don't own anything remotely recognizable in the story; music, devices, brand names or anything; if you recognize it, I don't own it. I make nothing off of anything. None of my works provide me a profit. Basically, **_I own absolutely nothing._** Point blank.
> 
> I want to thank you all for your attention, and for sticking around the way you have. You're all just the most wonderful readers a girl could ask for, and I adore you all. Thank you so much!
> 
> Aha! As promised, this chapter hasn't taken _nearly_ as long as the previous one. The characters were very cooperative, this time.
> 
> However, this chapter does have its sadness, as, unfortunately, it is the goodbye chapter. Now, mind you, friends, I have tried to give all the characters their due attention and respect. It's anything but perfect, but I know myself well; if I lingered, it would be _too_ sad, and I don't want to do that to any of you.
> 
> Now, on a lighter note, you may have noticed the number of chapters has changed again. There will be eighteen, as I intend to have an epilogue.
> 
> That said, on with the chapter!

**_ Chapter Sixteen _ **

(Name) made up her mind in a moment, and she knelt, placing her hand on the table for Jed and Octavius. “May I?” She wanted to be eye-level with them, now, and Ahkmenrah took her shoulder in one hand, squeezing it gently.

“We'd be honored, milady,” Octavius confirmed, and he climbed in to her hand carefully. Jed followed, and she curled her fingers just enough that the miniatures could hang on to them. She straightened, then, and she looked to her husband, and her mother. The latter waved her off, smiling, knowing that she would worry about Evan. At last, Ahkmenrah followed her, and together, they carried Jed and Octavius to their own room; all the smaller Romans, cowboys, and Mayans seemed to have already returned, wanting to spend their last night with friends.

(Name) took a seat on the small bench in the room, and Ahkmenrah followed; she then allowed the miniatures to climb atop the little railing above the bench, and they sat for a brief time, just quiet. Jed watched his fellows brushing the horses, nit-picking the railroad, or just chatting in the quiet.

None looked too upset.

Octavius' troops were, true to their creation, practicing military movements and keeping busy.

The Mayans were surprisingly tame, too.

The sober note of the night seemed to have taken hold.

Ahkmenrah finally turned to the little men, and he gave them both a little smile. “Thank you, Jed, Octavius,” he said, and he kept his voice soft. “You are truly incredible men,” he added.

(Name) could swear she saw a faint pink color both their faces, but they, of course, tried to play it off. Instead, they both bowed to the pharaoh, “And you, my liege,” Octavius offered. “We are glad we've had this life. It's an incredible gift,” he said, thankful.

Jed was nodding beside him, “And don't you worry 'bout us none,” he added. “We've had a hell of a ride, Ahk.”

(Name) did not know the miniatures the way Ahkmenrah did, but she had his memories, and she felt the tears welling in her eyes—tears her husband was too strong to shed. She was never fond of goodbyes. Not permanent ones. There were times she'd said goodbye and hadn't heard from someone for a long time, and she could handle that, because it was unplanned. But to know she wouldn't speak to someone again...that was awful. She knew, in the end, that she would be happy. There was no question. But it was difficult.

It was surprisingly even harder because she couldn't hug the two. She felt as though she must do something, but they were so small that...well, it wouldn't fare very well, so she bundled it all up and pushed it down, and, instead, she smiled at them, too. “Thank you. Truly.” There was the smallest break in her voice, and both men noticed; they each clambered on to her shoulder and kissed her cheek, and when they had climbed back to the bench, they gave her a bow, too.

“You just take care of your little man, (Name),” Jed said, grinning. “And maybe ol' King Ahk, too, since we can't.”

Octavius shook his head, “I quite think she'll manage. She very nearly killed Lancelot, by my account,” he said, seeming thoughtful.

That earned a laugh, and (Name) grinned at them. “He wouldn't have had to worry about his nose anymore if I'd had a weapon, I can promise,” she joked.

The two little miniatures grinned at that. “Well. It's been an honor,” Octavius said, suddenly sober again. “And I think there are others who want to see you off, my king.”

The comment wiped the smile from (Name)'s face, and she took a deep breath. “You two lovebirds just live to the fullest for us plastic fellows,” Jed offered. “If we meet again, I expect a very long story out of you,” he insisted.

(Name) grinned at that, and so did Ahkmenrah. He stood, and he offered a low bow to the two. “Goodbye, my dear friends,” he said, and this time, his voice barely cracked; it was hardly audible, but both miniatures took it in. He truly did care, and though they didn't want him too upset, it was good to feel cared for.

“ _Adios_ , Ahk,” Jed offered, saluting.

“Farewell, my king.” That was Octavius, and at last, (Name) and Ahkmenrah left the diorama room, and the pharaoh curled his arm around her waist gently.

Next was the Hall of African Mammals, and Ahkmenrah strode in with confidence, despite the cats in the room. Indeed, one padded up to him and nuzzled his leg, earning a brief head-scratch and a few words in his native tongue.

(Name) quirked her eyebrow. “Cat person?”

He grinned at her, “My most faithful companion was a cheetah,” he offered, and the memory came, suddenly; she saw the huge cat striding beside her husband, perched at his left foot when he was at his throne, growling at his brother if the elder man was within thirty feet of her lover. “Though she was more of a pet than a guard, I admit. The only one she did not favor was Kahmunrah,” he added.

The memory blurred, and changed, and she flinched. “I'd like to take a knife and stab it through _his_ ribs, too,” she hissed. She took a breath, calming, and gave a little sigh. “I'm sorry,” she added.

“She didn't go without putting up a fight,” he soothed. “Kahmunrah was bloody for days. My parents hoped she had taken him with her,” he admitted.

(Name) shook her head, but before she could speak, Dexter climbed her pants and circled her waist, jumping from Ahkmenrah's robe to her shoulder, and the little monkey nuzzled her cheek gently.

“Hey, Dexter,” she offered, and she offered her hand for the creature; he ducked his head and she stroked him gently, only a little, “No tricks?”

He squeaked and shook his head, and then climbed to Ahkmenrah. Once again, he nuzzled his carrier, sitting carefully on the pharaoh's shoulder, and he sighed. Ahkmenrah reached up and stroked the little creature, too, “We're gonna miss you too, Dexter,” he offered.

The monkey nodded, and for a little while, they merely sat with the animals of the room.

At last, with a hug from each, the two made their way around to Attila, allowing Dexter to spend his night as he wished. The conqueror greeted them with an enormous hug for (Name), and for Ahkmenrah, a deep and thankful bow. He spoke to the pharaoh for a time in his own language, surprisingly calm, but laughing a few times. But he did turn to (Name), too, and gave her a grin, “Protect...him.” He paused, and grinned. “A king needs...his queen.” His grin turned playful, “This queen...is fierce. Guardian of her king,” he added.

She blinked, surprised, and then laughed. “Thank you, Attila,” she said, a bit of laughter in her voice. “I'll look after him,” she promised.

Attila nodded, and he gave her another hug, smiling. He waved at her, and at Ahkmenrah, and rejoined his other Huns—when dawn approached, they would need to be in place, and if this was their last night...well, they wanted to enjoy it.

At last, Ahkmenrah and (Name) approached Sacagawea's room. The Civil War soldiers were sitting in a far corner, making gestures and seeming to laugh, and Lewis and Clark were seated in another, looking at the map they'd been given—though their freedom had been won with Sacagawea, they had not been as involved with Larry as she had; she was tied to Teddy. Instead, they'd mapped the museum and wandered on their own, more often than not, and tonight, though they relished their time in the museum, their minds were going back to their true adventure.

Sacagawea was in another corner, sitting quietly with Teddy. This was a room of quiet, with the soldiers without mouths, and Lewis and Clark familiar friends.

Ahkmenrah approached them, loathe to interrupt their time, but he wanted to say goodbye. He knew he must, or it would ache in his chest from here on.

(Name) followed behind him, grasping his hand tightly, feeling the same emotion swell in her chest.

Sacagawea heard them with ease; Ahkmenrah's many metals and jewels rattled softly, but distinctly, and she nudged Teddy gently, lifting a wide smile to the two. She was the first to stand, and she wrapped them each in an enormous hug, as tight as could be, but as gentle as a mother's love. She was not, in truth, a very touchy person, but she had come to very much adore these two people.

She had bonded with Ahkmenrah on one of the early nights; although he often escaped to be with the others, sometimes, he still felt excluded, worried that he would be locked up. It was a natural fear, and Sacagawea could relate to it well; she hadn't been able to escape, either. Though she had Lewis and Clark, it was not the same as having freedom to speak to others, to explore, stretch her legs.

It was far better than Ahkmenrah had been dealt, however. She had known, had been able to relate, and had talked to the young king early on—though it wasn't precisely the same, she had talked to him, tried to soothe him. He had been shy and stiff at first—a king, trying to be strong, trying to be regal and prove his feelings on the museum at large—and it had taken time to ease him. He had hidden it well. He had to be strong, for what he'd been through, but she had known he must be afraid; afraid he would never get out again.

But the museum had come to adore him. He was kind, if somewhat dark at times, but after all, he was among the oldest figures in the museum, even if his body was yet young.

Sacagawea, especially, loved the young pharaoh. She had gotten to know him earlier than others, had tried to reassure him, and he had let her in, little by little, and she knew he was kind and good.

It was not too surprising, then, that she saw the faint hint of tears shining in his eyes when she finally pulled away from him. He was a little too strong of mind to let the tears form and fall, but she knew that he felt this in his heart and soul. So, at that little show of emotion, she gave him another hug, and he might have hugged her a little too tightly in return, but she understood what it meant, when he couldn't seem to find words.

Teddy and (Name) watched the exchange fondly. The younger woman had seen the emotion her husband held for Sacagawea; a guardian, a sister, and even, at times, a mother figure—she had cared for and looked out for him, always wanting to make sure he felt comfortable, and Ahkmenrah had relished that feeling far more than he could or would ever admit.

At last, with a deep sigh, Sacagawea released the pharaoh, smiling at him, a faint shine of tears on her own eyes, “Ahk, I hope you know that we're happy for you,” she said, her voice catching gently, but there was warmth and love in her words. “And as much as we've appreciated the life you brought us, we want, far more, for you to live yours, with Evan and (Name),” she continued, the smile breaking in to her words.

(Name) couldn't quite keep herself from fidgeting, and she reached out, both arms wrapping around her husband's elbow, trying to keep her own feelings at bay. She knew how Ahkmenrah must have been feeling, knew what he felt, and it was an unbearable feeling, that he would never see them again, yet Sacagawea and Teddy were truly smiling and happy, happy for Ahkmenrah, for _both_ of them, and for little Evan.

The small contact seemed to reassure him and shore up his strength, and he smiled at the Shoshone woman, “Thank you,” he managed, at last, and there was a wealth of emotion wrapped up in his words, seeping from him, making his voice barely shake as he spoke. “Truly,” he added, when he couldn't find more to say, but felt he must.

Teddy finally let out a laugh, and surprising the pharaoh immensely, he nearly lifted the Egyptian off the floor in a hug, his grin immense and his hold tight, yet fond. “Ahkmenrah, you don't need to thank us,” he offered, his hands now on the pharaoh's shoulders; he wanted to assure the king of his words, wanted to show him his sincerity. “I know I've apologized before, for your treatment—” When Ahkmenrah tried to cut him off, Teddy firmly shook his head, “No. We had no right, and there's no good excuse, but truly, I'm sorry,” he said firmly. “But all that time, and ever since, you've kept us with you; you could have attacked any one of us, you could have made sure we didn't come to life ever again...but you didn't. You are a kind and gentle person, and you've always looked after us.” He paused here, and he smiled, “The museum may not be much of a kingdom, but you've cared for us as though we were your own. I know well that it isn't easy,” he added, smiling gently, “adapting. We've all had lives before this, we have memories of age long after what our waxen figures might portray. I remember my family...Theodore Roosevelt's family, his wife and children. But you have a chance to live out your life properly, son,” he said, and the emotion began to flood in to his voice and pour out with his words. “And we all want that for you,” he added in a rush.

His hands tightened on Ahkmenrah's shoulders, “We all talked about it. We've enjoyed our life, the life your magic brought to us...but we've lived our lives, so many of us had children of our own, had families and lived out a life proper,” he continued. “Lives worthy of history! My boy, you are youthful and your life was stolen, but you made history in your short years, where you had to be a king, a leader, a fighter.” Teddy squeezed his shoulders again. “I daresay you had very little time to be a child. Indeed, Ahkmenrah, from what I understand, your father put you on the throne early, and you never had the chance to just _enjoy_ life,” he murmured, and his big, blue eyes were piercing. “We want you to enjoy life. Not to have to rule a country or worry about a museum full of plastic and wax, my friend, but to enjoy life to its very fullest.” Teddy squeezed just once more, and let go, at last. “We want you to go out and get married properly, and explore the world, and live at leisure, Ahkmenrah. Not to carry that responsibility you've carried for thousands of years,” he finished.

Ahkmenrah was utterly speechless beyond repair; his mouth opened, but not even a squeak of a word came out.

And for a time, he remained just like that; slightly wide-eyed, mouth barely agape, reaching for words that wouldn't come, and hoping, beyond reason, that he didn't look as stunned as he felt.

At last, however, his regal training fell and he wrapped his arms tightly around Teddy in return, just a bit too tight, but when emotion was too much, well...this would have to do.

He lingered there for several moments, before taking a deep breath, and he nodded, his voice cracking when he finally managed to speak, and it was barely more than a whisper, dripping with emotion, “Thank you.”

It wasn't enough, and he knew it. Teddy had become a bit of a father figure for him; his guilt for Ahkmenrah's imprisonment had made him a bit protective of the pharaoh, but it had become respect and adoration, yet he always looked after the younger man, wanting to look after the king. Indeed, in Larry's absence, Teddy had almost always been the one to free the Egyptian; only if something delayed him was he not the one to set him free.

Ahkmenrah adored these two as family; closer than any other in the museum. It had taken time, before he truly believed that he would not be trapped once more, but he had learned, and he had found fondness for many of his fellow exhibits, but Teddy and Sacagawea had taken the most distinct interest in looking after him; Attila, too, but these treated him nearly as a son, at times.

That had been precious, when Ahkmenrah had missed his mother and father most dearly.

In turn, these foster parents were dearly loved by Ahkmenrah, and their goodbye was the most painful.

They spent a little extra time lingering there, until, at last, they knew they could not delay any longer.

Sacagawea gave the two another strong hug, whispering something quietly in (Name)'s ear, to which she earned a laugh and a nod, but at last, she nodded. “Goodbye, my friends. Know that you are both loved, and should we meet again, I expect the greatest of tales from you,” she insisted. “I think we'll all be waiting for that, if it's possible,” she added, smiling.

The tears finally began to break from (Name)'s eyes. With Ahkmenrah's memories, it felt like someone ripping her heart from her chest, and she could not begin to imagine how her husband was bearing the parting with such strength. But it was Teddy's turn, and after a hug and a soft kiss to Sacagawea, he walked the two to the lobby; the other exhibits were getting ready, too, and were shaking hands and hugging, climbing in to their displays.

At last, Teddy gave one final hug to each, and then climbed astride his horse, cantering back in to place. He glanced out the high window, and the faint, gray light of coming dawn greeted him. “My lady, it's been an honor,” he offered to (Name), first, and the tears came again; Ahkmenrah wrapped his arm tightly around her waist in turn, and Teddy turned to Ahkmenrah, at last, a grin on his lips. “Smile, my boy,” he offered, his voice joyful, “it's sunrise. _Your_ sunrise,” he said.

Ahkmenrah nodded, and reluctantly, he turned away.

They had only minutes.

He gathered the tablet, and (Name)'s mother and Evan, and as they walked, Ahkmenrah arranged the tiles correctly. Ahkmenrah took a deep and trembling breath, and (Name)'s mother went out first, with Evan. The soft, orange glow of sunrise awaited them, and (Name) brought Ahkmenrah in for a kiss, distracting him. “With me?”

“Forever,” he promised, and she curled her hand in to his elbow, and meeting his steps, they strode in to the orange-tinted snow of the loading bay.

Ahkmenrah screamed.

The tablet was glowing white-hot, and he couldn't set it free; he was shaking with pain and (Name) could see the pain ripping through his nerves.

He began to cough and gag; his lungs were reforming, and his stomach, too. His organs were returning, and his body began to adjust to what the tablet, and the gods, now knew of modern human bodies; it copied the medicines and immunities that (Name) had endured in youth, the vaccinations and her physical conditioning to the environment of a modern world.

He hit his knees, and only (Name)'s arms kept him from collapsing in to the snow. She eased him to the ground, giving him her strength to lean on, and allowed her worried, frightened tears to flow freely.

Her husband was in the worst pain she could imagine, and she was astounded at his strength. She was grateful that her mother was holding Evan safely; the little boy looked more frightened than she felt, and she knew she must be strong for her precious boys.

He was shaking violently, and (Name) did all she could to brace him against herself.

But it passed, as all trials had, and the Egyptian was left gasping, dizzy and nauseous, weakened and collapsed in his wife's arms, feeling feverish and sweaty.

She held him tightly, and he felt the wet droplets of her tears seeping through his collar, and it made him lift his head, pressing his lips softly beneath her jaw. “(Name)?”

Her arms tightened on him, and though his body still seemed to be in shock, it was comforting. “Is it over?”

“I believe it has passed,” he said, and his voice felt tired. He realized, suddenly, that he felt exhausted, _beyond_ it, and he wanted desperately to sleep.

“Let's get you in, then, and get you in to some proper clothes,” she murmured, her lips on his temple. “And maybe get you a little food.”

With much help from (Name) and her mother, Ahkmenrah made it back in to the loading bay, and despite the obvious embarrassment of the situation, the two women managed to change him in to a loose t-shirt and a pair of sweats; they couldn't guess his size perfectly, and for now, it would do. They made a lucky guess at his shoe size and laced up a pair of boots over thick socks for him; the snow and slush would be slick, and he was sure to struggle, at first, in the shoes. His sandals were far different. They set aside their jackets for later, and at last, he agreed he'd try to eat; he was exhausted, but it was true that he probably needed food. His stomach was, in truth, brand new...and empty. He reluctantly ate, despite his exhaustion, and Evan hovered near him worriedly all the while.

At last, though he knew he needed sleep, the pharaoh insisted that they see his exhibit; they wanted to know what had become of his display.

It took him some time to adjust to the boots; they were thick and he had to adjust to raising his foot high enough for each step. But they arrived, and Ahkmenrah noticed a new plaque outside his old display.

Its words were neat and uniform, and it told a gruesome tale:

 

**_The Tomb of the Unknown Pharaoh_ **

_Within this tomb are the ashes of the Unknown Pharaoh._  
_Presumed to be the son of Pharaoh Merenkahre and Shepseheret, the pharaoh within has no recorded name. It is speculated that his brother, Pharaoh Kahmunrah, has erased him from history._  
_Discovery of Pharaoh Merenkahre led to a third sarcophagus, singed at its edges, and filled with ash. The sarcophagus, large enough for an adult male, was found between the sarcophagi of Pharaoh Merenkahre and his wife, Shepseheret._  
_Historians speculate that this Unknown Pharaoh was the favored son of Pharaoh Merenkahre. The damage and erasure of his name suggests that Pharaoh Kahmunrah might have erased the deeds of the Unknown Pharaoh and taken them for himself; a brief period of Pharaoh Kahmunrah's speculated reign was more peaceful and benign than the official dates that have been matched. Pharaoh Kahmunrah was known as one of the most bloodthirsty kings in known history, and his rule was brief._  
_Speculation also suggests that the Unknown Pharaoh was likely murdered for power. Mentions of a “Tablet” were found in the tomb, but no such artifact has been discovered._  
_Historians and archaeologists continue to search for information._

Inside, true to the description on the plaque, was a propped-open sarcophagus, filled with ash, blackened at its edges, the gold deformed and melted in places. It was surrounded by glass on all sides.

Other plaques declared that the “unknown pharaoh” had perished before his parents, but that their sarcophagi had suffered similar damage, indicating Kahmunrah's hatred, further supporting the speculations on the introductory plaque.

They lingered, just for a moment, but Ahkmenrah seemed too tired to stay; they helped him back down the stairs—now with easier steps—and saw, suddenly, a stack of papers on the edge of the table, next to their jackets. They were bright white...and as thick as the tablet.

(Name)'s mother looked over them, curious, and began, within seconds, to flip through them.

“...It gave you records,” she said, stunned.

(Name), supporting her husband, walked to the table, too. On it were records of all kinds; birth certificate, medical records, vaccination dates, educational degrees...even death certificates for his parents. It provided him a brief work history, too, and gave him passports and a license to drive...and a modest bank account—possibly what the tablet itself would have been worth if it were gold. They looked around to find his crown, cape, collar, and other pieces gone, wondering at the circumstances. In awe, (Name) stared at her husband, “You must be the favored son of all the gods,” she breathed.

He seemed surprised, and then he gave a soft laugh, “I knew that the moment I met you,” he said, smiling. “Though this is impressive, too,” he teased.

Her cheeks tinted softly pink, and she shook her head, burying it gently in his neck, only to earn another little chuckle, and both his arms went around her. She lingered for a moment, but gave a sigh, and she nodded. “We should get to the hotel. I have to check out and get us home,” she murmured.

The pharaoh nodded, and despite his exhaustion, they did just that; (Name)'s mother carried Evan, and the child watched his parents over her shoulder the whole way.

The car was anything but pleasant, the first time, for the Egyptian; though he knew what motion sickness was, to feel it in memory and to experience it himself were two very different things, and he, for several minutes after they stopped, knelt in the front yard of his new home, gagging, but he never quite vomited. Instead, at last, he allowed his wife to help him inside, but his eyes were growing wide; he recognized the house, the little sidewalk to the door, the flowers on the stoop, the trees shading the lawn in the back. It was small, and cozy, and plain, but something in him felt it, as (Name) did; it was _home._

The main room was furnished with worn, yet comfy-looking furniture, a little TV, and a box of toys. The kitchen was neat and clean, with gray-marble counters, and dark wood, and it smelled like apples.

It was...familiar.

He knew it.

So when (Name) guided him in to her room, _their_ room, he fell comfortably in to the bed, and the pillows smelled like his lover, and the blankets were soft.

Sleep came easy, and fast.

He awoke to the smell of dinner, and the warmth of two bodies; a little one, curled against his chest, and the soft, familiar warmth of his wife, wrapped around his back, her arm thrown over his stomach, her breaths soft and level on his neck.

His fatigue remained, a little, but it was minimal; the rest had given him energy that he didn't know he'd missed, and his dizziness was gone. He felt...human. Living. The morning was a blurry memory, but now, he took the time to bring it to the front, when he had his wife and son close and warm and safe.

The sun had been warm, despite the cold of the air. He hadn't seen the sun in...years, an eternity, and if he hadn't been so weak, he might have lain in the snow, looking at the daylight for hours.

He resolved to do that tomorrow.

Tonight, he wanted to relish this new gift.

Though it came with the pain of many goodbyes, and his heart was heavy with missing his friends, the two bodies cuddled in to him gave him a comfort he would never regret, and they shored up the holes that formed in the absence of his dearest friends.

There was a small light on the nightstand, dim, yet it allowed him to look at his son. The little boy was tired, too, and his little face was pressed in to Ahkmenrah's chest, and his tiny fingers were gripping tightly at his shirt; he could feel the fabric bunched up against his skin, and he wondered at the sleeping boy's grip.

He must have been worried.

His wife, however, was the opposite; her body was lax and soft, and he could feel her hips pressed against his, her arm over his belly, her elbow making the quilt point toward the ceiling. One of her legs had wound between his, and he could feel the warmth of her breath tickling his nape, ruffling the hair there. He could feel her breasts rise in to his back with every breath, and he counted them for a time, just relishing in the moment.

His wife and son, asleep, safe and sound, one in his arms, and in the arms of the other.

He could hear music through the doorway, and the smell of food was creeping in from the kitchen.

All unfamiliar things.

But welcome.

He could have gone back to sleep with ease, and was on the verge of it, when (Name) gave a sigh and pressed in to him closer, her arm tightening on him, “Ahk?”

It was slurred and barely a breath, as though she didn't know she'd said it. “Yes?”

That, too, was soft, not wanting to wake Evan, and it took (Name) a few moments; she shifted against her husband, licking her lips—and, accidentally, his skin—and her other arm bumped him as she rubbed her eyes, “How are you feeling?”

“Alive,” he answered, not quite knowing where to start. “I feel...hungry, for the first time in a long time. I have not felt tired in years, before the tablet began to die...” He paused, and she could nearly hear the smile in his words, “And comforted.”

“Mm,” she hummed, and she pressed her lips against his skin softly, down his nape, lingering after each touch, “It smells like Mom's almost done with dinner. Guessing Evan's in a ball at your chest, isn't he?”

_That_ was another sensation that was new, and he let out a soft, husky groan for her actions; his sleepy brain didn't have the strength to fight the feeling of warmth curling down his spine and in to his belly. At least she didn't push any further, he thought. “With a vice grip,” he confirmed, shifting only a little; now that his wife was awake, he wasn't quite as worried about his movement, and he needed a little distraction.

“He does that when he's worried or scared...he'll cling to you for the next few days, I'm betting,” she murmured, but she made no sign of moving away from him. “Mm,” she hummed again, and this time, she stretched, “I suppose we should wake him for dinner. It's going to be a task, getting him back on a regular sleeping schedule,” she admitted.

Her stretching made Ahkmenrah want to stretch, too, and he gave in; his muscles ached and he heard a few bones pop as his toes barely edged over the end of the bed, and now, Evan stirred, grumbling and snuffling closer to his father. The elder man chuckled, and he softly rubbed his son's back, “Evan?”

It took a good few moments for the child to fully awaken; the long nights had thoroughly messed up his sleep, and he struggled to stir, “Daddy?”

(Name) reluctantly rolled out of the bed, running her hands carefully through her hair, and in turn, Ahkmenrah rolled on to his back. He gathered Evan with his strong hands and lifted the boy, putting him on his stomach. “I think dinner is almost ready,” he offered, smiling and smoothed out his son's hair; it was sticking out and the little boy had lines on his face from his position in Ahkmenrah's chest.

“What are we having?” The words were nearly slurred, and he was rubbing his eyes fiercely, fighting sleep.

“Grandmama's cooking, buddy,” (Name) offered, smiling. “Wanna go see what she's made?”

The little boy reached for her, “Carry me?”

She laughed, and she lifted him gently, “Only if Daddy can walk on his own. If he can't, will you help him with me?”

He nodded, turning, at last, to his father, and Ahkmenrah managed to roll to the edge of the bed, and climb out on his own; he was unsteady, just for a moment, but (Name) threw an arm out and held him just until he was alright. But the sleep seemed to have taken care of many things, and after a few test steps, Ahkmenrah's footing was sure, and he led them to the kitchen; (Name)'s memories aided him. He was greeted with classic rock music and the smell of bread and soup, and her mother was dancing across the floor with a spoon in one hand, sliding from her heels to the balls of her feet in socks over the smooth tiles, reaching for a potholder with the other hand.

(Name) burst out laughing. “I sleep for a few hours and find you dancing through the kitchen! When am I going to inherit this dancing-through-the-kitchen gene, Mom?”

Her mother whirled around and burst out laughing; the three looked sleepy, still, and poor Evan was still on the verge of snoozing in his mother's arms. “When you stop sleeping at five in the afternoon! Come on, you three can set the table. I've done all the hard work,” she teased, laughing. “You think you can take care of the silverware, Evan?”

The little boy mumbled, and his mother put him on the floor; he wobbled for a few steps, but moving, at last, seemed to wake him up a little more. He finally climbed on to a stool and gathered the needed silverware, and with his mother carrying the bowls behind him, he safely made it to a small dining room and began to set the table.

(Name)'s mother, however, looked Ahkmenrah over carefully, “How are you feeling?”

“Hungry...but fine,” he assured, and he gave her a gentle smile. “The tablet and the gods seem to have granted me healthy life.” He paused, but he went to her, and he took her in to a hug, “Thank you.”

She returned the hug with a gentle laugh, and she gave him a comfort that surprised him; though not like his own mother, she was his mother now, wasn't she? She was a good woman, and despite the circumstances, she'd accepted him, had welcomed him. He appreciated her immensely, and her comforting hug made it all the stronger. “Oh, I'll put you to work once I'm sure you're well,” she teased him, but she offered him a grin. “Could you take a few glasses to the table? I'll get the soup and bread,” she offered.

Ahkmenrah was delighted with that offer; indeed, she was treating him like anyone else, and he would gladly accept that. He gathered four glasses, and took them to the table; he put them in place, and as he helped Evan in to a chair, (Name) brought milk out and poured half a glass for Evan, and then water for herself and her mother. “What would you like, Ahk?”

“Water will be fine,” he assured, smiling.

“We have wine, if you'd prefer,” she offered, knowing his memories.

“I think that might be a bit risky, with a new liver,” he teased, a smile on his face. “I'd prefer water, at least for now,” he assured.

(Name) laughed at that, too, and she poured water for him, too.

Dinner was simple; creamy chicken and broccoli soup, with soft, warm rolls, and (Name)'s mother had even made an apple pie for dessert.

It was perfect for a cool night.

Evan, despite having his own room and bed, insisted that he sleep with his parents, and (Name) allowed it for that night, though she knew it would probably be a few that the child would want, with Ahkmenrah.

This was special, after all.

He climbed in first, shimmying down in to the covers, and his mother and father followed after him; (Name) had gotten Ahkmenrah a few different clothes, and with the cool winter night, he chose a t-shirt and pajama pants, and when he'd pulled the covers up, Evan snuggled in to him, and (Name) dutifully threw an arm over the little boy; he wanted in the middle.

He wanted comfort.

(Name) leaned over him, just for a moment, and met her husband's lips in a soft, loving kiss, smiling against his skin. “I love you, Ahk.”

He relished the kiss, hanging on to it, clinging to the sensation; it meant more to him than even the sunlight had that morning. “I love you, too, (Name),” he said, his voice soft and warm.

Pressing in to his father, Evan gave a sigh, “I love you Daddy, Mama,” he said, half-slurring, satisfied with a good meal and the comfort of his parents.

In unison, the two spoke, “We love you too, Evan,” they offered, and both bent; (Name)'s kiss pressed to his crown, and Ahkmenrah's to his forehead.

Silence fell, and Evan's breathing evened first, and then (Name)'s. Ahkmenrah watched them both for a time, just listening to their breaths, feeling Evan's warmth, and (Name)'s hand over their son's side.

He prayed then, to each god, thanking them all in due time, and sleep fell around him with the greatest of ease.

He was home, he was alive, he was loved, and he could love. He could live, and he could spend his life with these precious figures.

Life could not have been more perfect, even for all the pain that had brought him here.

**_ End Chapter _ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...I know, the bank account and records are a stretch...but after all, if the gods favor him, just a small task for all of them, I think. *Coughs.* Or the author just wants a very happy ending.
> 
> ANYway.
> 
> Well, we're so very near to the end, my friends. I realize I could have ended it here, but I feel that's not fair to anyone; to you, me, or the characters. They still have things to do, and after all, Ahkmenrah has some adjusting to do, and I think the world might need some exploration...and maybe a special little something else, too.
> 
> Now, I know what my plans are, but my characters tend to do whatever they want to do, so we'll see what's to happen.
> 
> However, I work all weekend, so the next chapter may be a bit delayed—I apologize in advance, friends.
> 
> Thank you all again for sticking with me, and for all your lovely comments and attention. You're all fantastic and amazing and sweet and I could kiss the lot of you. (Or hug. Or handshake. Or give you a cookie. Whatever makes you comfy.)
> 
> Until next time!


	17. Chapter Seventeen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  ** _DISCLAIMER:_** I do **NOT** own _Night at the Museum_ , or any of its contents, characters, actors, ideas...or anything at all related to it. I never have, and I never will. This is written for fun. I’m dirt poor, so sorry. This is for my entertainment and for those who read this.
> 
> I also don't own anything remotely recognizable in the story; music, devices, brand names or anything; if you recognize it, I don't own it. I make nothing off of anything. None of my works provide me a profit. Basically, **_I own absolutely nothing._** Point blank.
> 
> We're coming to the wire, my friends—this is the next-to-last chapter.
> 
> Thank you all for sticking with me all this time. I truly appreciate it, and I'm so glad you've all enjoyed the ride!
> 
> _On this chapter, I must thank my dear friend, Bubbles, for being a champ and reading it in advance. With some minor adjustments and much reassurance that I'd done a fair job on the latter half of the chapter, I feel much better in presenting it as, indeed, finished. Thank you again!_
> 
> Now, I'm sure that all of you have been staring at that M-rating I listed on this fic. It was, first and foremost, because I can have a horrid potty mouth and have a tendency toward intimacy in writing, but secondly because of the rape of the reader's character. Though not in detail, this entire story was based around that very thing, and the themes and flashbacks were, I felt, likely to be a little too severe for a lower rating...and I'm a tad paranoid, anyway.
> 
> But this chapter, with cooperative characters, has earned that M rating well, and it still deals with her rape. I'm not giving spoilers, but I know that there are people who can't read such things, or don't want to. You will know when it starts, and it does not end until the end of the chapter.
> 
> Don't read it if you feel you can't, or don't want to. I feel I've given the situation due respect and time, and Bubbles (thanks again!) assured me that, under the circumstances, it is quite appropriate.
> 
>  
> 
> Now, all warnings aside, I hope you all enjoy this chapter to the fullest! Thank you for sticking around!

**_ Chapter Seventeen _ **

Days passed with ease, and though Ahkmenrah hated to see his wife leave in the mornings, her mother helped teach him, and Evan spent long hours with his father.

With closer inspection, they found that the records created for Ahkmenrah included an employment listing for the museum—as an actor. It seemed it had even covered the time people would remember of the living exhibits.

His education listings were only slightly better than average; not enough to call attention, but enough to draw the eyes of employers, when he was ready to take a job.

But for now, he enjoyed being a...stay-at-home dad, as (Name) put it.

Despite having (Name)'s memories, living itself was a learning process; remembering and experiencing were two very different things and it took a good few trips around the block before Ahkmenrah could ride in a car without being ill, and (Name) promised to teach him how to drive in time. Despite having a license produced for him...well, that would have to wait.

In the mean time, they all took a trip to get the pharaoh some proper clothes that would fit him, and though he struggled, at first, like all new things, he adapted. Pants were strange. But this part of the world was cooler than Egypt, and he had to dress for the weather.

And when, after the 'holiday break,' his son had to return to preschool, (Name)'s mother took it upon herself to teach him what she knew of the world, too. She rented library books for him, though she found, quickly, that the pharaoh had been treated to such by Larry; after all, Ahkmenrah was an inquisitive man and wanted to know about the development of the world.

But time eased him in to new life, and on a not-too-cold weekend, they visited Larry at last.

It was bittersweet, in its own way, but Larry was impressed and approved of Ahkmenrah's progress—sometimes, the pharaoh even sounded like his wife, having begun to pick up her speech patterns.

Life was...amazing.

And as he settled in to it, he realized that he wanted to spend as much time as he could with his family, while he could. He wanted to explore; the museum was one thing, but the world at large, changed, was another.

(Name) put money away and saved up, working hard for all of them, and she seemed a favored employee, for she began to earn more for her work, and even moved up a few positions, with time.

They traveled, when (Name) could get the time off; they started with weekends, going to nearby things; seeing new states, diving in head first, and learning where they could. It was an experience for (Name), too.

But on vacations, they traveled far; for Evan's sake, their first vacation as a family was his choice.

He chose Florida.

They went to theme parks, aquariums, and zoos, nursed sunburns, and Ahkmenrah relished the heat beating on to his shoulders.

It felt like home, if not for the humidity.

Indeed, (Name)'s mother proved a saint, for she took Evan when (Name) wanted to drag poor Ahkmenrah on to roller coasters and wild rides their son was too small for, and he began to wonder, indeed, if his wife was crazy.

But he loved it.

In fact, with (Name)'s mother's help and lessons, he had made up his mind to do something very, very important.

Their hotel was on the beach, and though they all shared one room, it spared them a lot of money, and they all lived well together, even in such a small space.

But their first family vacation was coming to a close; they had a long drive home tomorrow, and though Ahkmenrah dreaded the ride, he'd had more fun than he could recall ever having in all his life.

There were many years to account for, considering, so that was an incredible statement.

But night was falling and Evan was tired, and (Name)'s mother slathered the boy in aloe before he collapsed. Ahkmenrah leaned over him, pressing a kiss to his forehead, giving his love, and the boy returned it; the same with his mother.

But Ahkmenrah wanted a moment with his wife, and he tugged her hand to his lips, kissing her palm. “Perhaps a last stroll on the beach?”

(Name) couldn't help smiling, and she gave him a nod, making sure to take a key card.

The sand was not the same as Egypt, but the warmth of it was a reminder. They had their sandals tied together, and Ahkmenrah had them over one shoulder, his arm around his wife, digging his toes in to the sand, listening to the roaring waves, and eventually, they wandered to the water's edge.

It was a strange thing, to feel it for himself; though he had done so more than once now, Ahkmenrah relished in every experience he had. He was lucky.

The water washed up around their ankles, sloshing in to shallow pools made by their feet, only to wash away their footprints as it raced back to sea and rushed back again. The ebb and flow and the quiet of the night were soothing.

(Name) nuzzled gently in to his chest, feeling his arms wrap around her, and she gave a soft sigh. “Good first vacation?”

“Hmm...almost perfect,” he said, and she heard that note he always had when he was teasing. He'd relaxed with the passing time; though he was born and trained in to royalty, he was beginning to calm and ease in to life as an ordinary man. He joked more, teased more, and more than once, he'd been found to run, shrieking, through the back yard after their son, laughing and tackling the boy, rolling him in the grass and playing with him until both were breathless and exhausted. “One thing would make it better,” he offered, his voice light and vague, giving her his perfect grin.

She was wary, knowing that Ahkmenrah could be absolutely mischievous when he had it in his head, and her eyes narrowed slightly. “What's that?”

He laughed at her skepticism, and he leaned down, capturing her lips with his. She melted in to him in less than an instant; his kiss was familiar and warm and passionate, and she gave in, letting him kiss her breathless, pressing closer and wrapping her arms around his neck. He kissed her until she was nearly boneless against him, relaxed and comfortable and no longer suspicious, and at last, he broke away, breathing a little hard, but smiling against her lips. “Well, that, for one...” His gentle teasing was back, but he pulled away from her now, gentle, and knelt, holding one of her hands in his. “But I think it would be perfect...if you'd marry me,” he said, his eyes wide and bright and excited. “Officially,” he added, and the warmth was back, teasing and love wrapped in his words. The hand not holding hers was holding up a small ring; it was gold, with three diamonds, uniform and neat. It was simple, but he knew her well; she wouldn't want anything too ostentatious, and he was aware that he could probably have proposed with a candy ring and she'd have agreed.

But he loved her, and wanted to give her all the best things he could; he might not have had the riches of the Egyptian kings, but he would give her all of himself, and he knew, to her, this would be special. She didn't think any less of their marriage as it was...but all her life, she'd been surrounded by images of beautiful brides dressed in white, and like so many other little girls, had dreamed of it for herself. Her mother, even, wanted to see her daughter wed.

So he watched her eyes fill with tears and heard her soft gasp, and she fell in to the sand with him, wrapping him in her arms, kissing him even as she nodded. They were both left laughing, half-soaked with ocean water, and nearly as joyful as when he'd first asked her.

He took her hand, and he gently slipped the ring on to her finger, and brought her in for another kiss, this one a little calmer, and filled with love, and she nuzzled him gently after it. “Gladly,” she finally said, a wide grin on her face.

His grin grew and matched hers, and he kissed her again, and they lingered on the beach until they knew they must rest. They had a long drive to get home.

Her mother, of course, was utterly delighted with the proposal, and surprising Ahkmenrah immensely, the woman—slightly smaller than his wife—actually lifted him a tiny bit off the ground when she hugged him. Of course, this meant that nearly the entire drive home was spent discussing the wedding arrangements, and though her mother promised that she would spend every dime she had, if they wanted it, (Name) and Ahkmenrah agreed—they only wanted a small wedding.

And it was that; (Name)'s mother's family attended, just a few of (Name)'s great-aunts, and two members from her father's side of the family—the only two that hadn't disowned her after the death of her father.

(Name) chose only one bridesmaid, a friend from work, and Evan agreed to be the ring bearer. (Name)'s uncle, from her father's side, walked her down the aisle, and Larry, honored, agreed to be Ahkmenrah's best man.

Nick, too, attended.

The ceremony was small, and quaint, and they held it in their back yard on a pretty, spring day.

They wrote their own vows, as a nod to Ahkmerah's culture; there were no such formal ceremonies, but this was for both of them. Ahkmenrah would admit his jealousy when other men eyed his wife, and he hoped that a ring might deter one or two, though he knew that hope was minimal.

She was, after all, a stunning, and powerfully beautiful woman.

He agreed to wear a wedding band, too; both wore golden rings, chosen together, and the pharaoh insisted that she wear a tiara with her veil—but she could surprise him, he offered, with the type.

His heart had almost stopped when he saw her that day, and he wondered, more than ever, how he was so lucky. The gods had given him (Name), no less, and he would never take that for granted.

He carried her, as tradition indicated, in to their hotel for the honeymoon; (Name)'s mother had put forward the money for it, as the wedding had cost so little, compared to her expectations.

(Name) had offered that he choose where they go; their son had chosen their first vacation, and (Name) had traveled, too. She even agreed that, if he wanted, she would go to Egypt with him.

But that, he said, was something he didn't want to do. The world had changed too much, and it would not be home to him anymore. One day, perhaps, but not then, he said.

They talked about it for a time, and at last chose a country together—somewhere beautiful, and calm, that they could explore together.

They were assured of Evan's care with her mother, and went with comfort for their honeymoon: Alone.

It was night when they arrived, receiving many congratulations and compliments from taxi drivers and passers-by, from the hotel concierge, and made it in complete comfort to their room.

It had a balcony with a perfect view, and Ahkmenrah was left to lock the door behind them; their bags were tossed aside for later and (Name) had already flung open the doors to see the city.

They both knew the implications of a wedding night, but Ahkmenrah knew well that he would never push her past her comfort level. His wife had endured too much for him to force her to do anything she didn't want, and though he would love her wholly when she was ready, he would never push her too hard. He approached her as she leaned on the railing, curling his arms around her middle, and nuzzled his head in to her throat softly, pressing his lips to her pulse. “You should be informed that you are a far more beautiful sight than the city,” he murmured, and it earned him a soft laugh, making her turn in to his arms, lifting hers up to his shoulders as she kissed him softly and slowly.

“I love you,” she whispered against his lips, smiling. “Even if you're full of crap.”

He laughed at her then, and dipped his head for another kiss. “I'm not lying!” He pitched his voice just a little higher, indignant, but it broke in to laughter, interrupted with soft, peppered kisses, short, at first, and then long and lingering as she relaxed in to him. “You are far more beautiful than anything in the world. More beautiful than anything in all of history,” he insisted, kissing her again. “I should know.”

Despite all the time they'd had together, more than a year now, living with him, waking up in his arms, she still blushed when he complimented her. For all the joy and teasing he had in his voice sometimes, she knew he was sincere, meaning it all the more; he relaxed with her, trusted her, and didn't feel the need to be a king.

Just her husband.

“I don't need to be four-thousand years old to know you're the most amazing man to live,” she murmured in return, and there was a softness in her voice. “Thank you,” she added, smiling.

He gave her a soft little sigh, drawing her closer, kissing her again. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” she said, returning his kiss, leaning in to him, relaxing in to his arms. She would admit she was nervous.

But she knew she wanted to try.

They had not been intimate yet; Ahkmenrah was always careful, and though late nights with Evan at a friend's house and her mother gone for a girl's night had found them tangled and touching, feeling, pushing the edges of her comfort farther and farther, she had not yet found her strength. She trusted her husband implicitly; she knew he wouldn't hurt her, but in moments of closeness...well, sometimes, those memories rose too fast for her to block them out.

He always understood, and never pushed her.

Tonight, she was determined. Her lover was the kindest man in all the world, she knew beyond doubt, and he loved her with all of himself. They had come close, sometimes, but something always got in the way, and tonight, she wouldn't let it. He loved her, truly and wholly, and not once had it been him that had discomforted her. It was always _memories,_ scars, and tonight was just that. Tonight. Not the past, but tonight, and the future, with the man she loved with all her heart.

She took a breath, and Ahkmenrah heard it shaking on the intake, “(Name), we don't have to—”

“I want to,” she insisted, cutting him off with a soft kiss. “No matter how long it takes. You deserve that.” She hesitated, and he saw her smile. “ _I_ deserve that,” she added.

He smiled now, too, and he met her lips again, softly. “You know you need only tell me, and I will do anything you need, right?”

She let out a little breath, and she nodded, “I know.” She took another breath, and she hesitated once more, but she turned her head up for another little kiss, and she turned away from him, exposing her back; the zipper of her wedding dress would be impossible. “Help me?”

Ahkmenrah was infinitely gentle and patient with her; his warm hands softly unhooked the tiny latch at the top of the zipper, and he eased the zipper to the base of her spine. The dress pooled around her ankles, and she was left nearly bare before him, and though her cheeks were crimson, she reached for the tie at his neck. “May I?”

He nodded, and she freed him of the tie, and then his jacket. She carefully unbuttoned his shirt, working until the top half of him was bare, and he helped her; if she began to shake, he merely took her hands, pulling them to his mouth, and kissed them softly. He waited for her.

But her breath caught when she reached his belt, and he shook his head gently, waiting until she let him pull her close, and he held her in his arms for a little while.

He didn't need to speak, and he waited for her; he waited until she moved in to him, waited until she was calm and breathing easy, waited until she was soothed and relaxed in his arms, and he softly urged her to tip her head up to him; he never used force, but barely nudged at her chin with his finger, and he kissed her gently. “Okay?”

She took a breath, and nodded. “Yes.”

She tried again, and the belt came free. She hadn't had any control before. She hadn't even been able to control her own body, let alone what was done to her.

Ahkmenrah was giving her all control; he moved according to what she wanted to do, shrugging out of shirts and giving her room when she needed.

And he never pushed her. He never did anything without making sure it was okay, with a little, quiet word, or a motion with his hands, and he never simply grabbed her; he opened his arms and waited for her, or offered his hand, palm-up, to wait for her.

At last, she had him nearly bare, too, and he gently held her for a moment, when she was shaking again. He knew it was difficult...but he knew she was strong, stronger than he had ever been, he was sure. He asked if he could lift her, and when she hesitated, he nearly took it back, but she agreed.

He lifted her gently on to the bed, placing her carefully on its edge, and he knelt before her, reaching for, yet not touching, her shoe. “May I?”

Something about that calmed her, and she nodded.

He eased the shoes from her feet, and again, with permission, he did what he would not before anyone else; a little, intimate wedding tradition.

His lips were there first, kissing the top edge of the white thigh-highs, and he asked again; when she assured him it was okay, he used his teeth to free the little clip holding them up, and then pulled the hosiery to her knee, and his hands, then, took over; his lips softly dusted gentle kisses over her knee, and his warm hands pulled the offending cloth from her leg.

The other leg was easier; her hand stroked over his hair, and he felt her easing beneath his touch, her calf relaxing in his gentle grip, and her breathing was softer.

When it was done, he sat at her side, asking for a little kiss, and she gave in, and it was so familiar that the rest of the tension fell out of her shoulders; her arms circled his neck and he kissed her until she was soft and pliant and leaning in to him, relaxed and willing, comfortable with even his hands on her waist, fingers drawing gentle circles on her skin.

He waited for her again, and he felt her indication as her grip tightened in his hair; his teeth had barely scraped her lip, something he always did, but it was permission, this time. He bit her lip again, and a soft little noise escaped, and she gave him a gentle, keening whine when he traced the line of her jaw, the curve of her throat with his lips. His teeth followed, when he was sure she was comfortable with it, knowing that it could change.

He was always careful, and gentle, and it always helped her.

“Ahk!” It was a soft gasp when he gently sucked the skin beneath her ear, a little, shaky moan following his name, and he memorized those sounds greedily. She felt him smile against her skin, and he pressed a little kiss against the tiny, faint red spot appearing on her flesh, lazily kissing back to her mouth, and she was fierce when he found her lips again, feeling the warmth of his affection pooling low.

Her breath caught when his hand wandered higher; one finger traced beneath the edge of her bra, very gentle, not pushing, but giving her time to adjust to the contact, and she began to shift in to his touch. It almost tickled, yet the heat of his hands made her skin feel flushed, and his lips had ventured down the other side of her neck, distracting her from the memories trying to push too high.

The unfailing gentleness Ahkmenrah offered was blocking the memories, and his patience was infinite. Where her rapist had hurried, Ahkmenrah waited at every movement, making sure she was comfortable. Making sure she was okay. The contrast was so sharp she couldn't compare the sensations; the memories had nearly no footing to try and stop her.

She gave him another soft gasp of his name when he traced his fingers over the clasp of her bra, questioning; he wanted permission, and she nodded, meeting his eyes, agreeing verbally.

She froze when she felt the pull, and she reached for his elbows, and he stopped immediately, letting her go, but she refused to let her scars win. She reached back and did it herself, _willingly,_ she told herself, and she removed it on her own.

But he waited. He waited until her breathing leveled, waited until she was in his arms of her own volition, and he started again; gentle kisses, warming her up, working until she was soft and willing in his arms again, and he waited until she gave him permission, his hands gentle, sure, but careful. He kept his eyes on her, kissing her gently when she began breathing a little too hard, pulling away, but he knew she wanted this. He knew she wanted to do this, once; she wanted to find her strength and love him.

She wanted to love herself again.

He helped her, soothing and warming her with kisses, starting over when it was a little too much, and gave her all the time she needed.

His hands were gentle and warm and strong and sure, and as she relaxed and allowed herself to lose focus, to trust him, she began to let out little, keening noises, arching in to his touch, moaning in his shoulder when she was too breathless to kiss him, her fingers clutching his back, gasping his name when he brushed his thumb over her nipple, flushing red, surprised.

It felt _good,_ so good, and she hadn't felt it before. It was a world away from what she knew.

She focused on it, and when he kissed his way down to her chest, she was so absorbed in the pleasure that not even her worst memories could break her focus on her husband.

Her permission might have been, in this case, a little muddled, but it was given, and he tasted her skin, flicking his tongue over her nipple in the way he'd been moving his thumb. She gasped and arched in to him, and he eased her in to the sensation, until she was pliant and had her arms around his neck, cradling him close, heat pooled between her thighs and moaning his name as he helped her let go of some of her worst memories.

When she was nearly a puddle in his arms, he kissed his way back to her mouth, and she gave in before he had even truly begun, her hands twisting in his hair and holding him, kissing him with her thanks and a heat that nearly drove him mad.

But he knew he must keep her comfortable, he wanted to have her trust and permission, and he softly asked if he could move them to the middle of the bed.

She had to think about it, but after a moment, she nodded. The nervousness was back, but she was strong.

He kissed her again, but never moved to put her on the bed on her back; he would wait for her, and for now, he had more important things to focus on.

One thing at a time.

She gave him permission, and the last article of her clothing came off. She recoiled, at first, but he waited; he waited until she was sure of herself again, until she was ready, and she finally leaned in and kissed him again.

It was easier, this time, with the heat still pooled low, with her trust, and she was willing and relaxed again with soft kisses, but he knew it would take time. He laid his hand on her knee, only, and he asked her permission verbally; this would be far worse than before. Her monster hadn't prepared her, hadn't given her even the slightest pleasure, but everything about it had become daunting for (Name). It was frightening, because she knew what would come.

But she was determined, and though shaking, she nodded.

He kissed her again, soothing her, and he started small; just his hand on her thighs, massaging her skin, and she began to relax once more, but he knew he couldn't distract her wholly this time. This would have to be done with her full attention and permission, and it took time.

But he was patient, and she was set in her goal, and they worked through it together.

She couldn't quite bring herself to lie back with him above her, but as he worked, she began to relax and shift in to his affection, she gave him her trust. She kept her eyes on him, always, but he never betrayed her, and always adjusted to her little movements.

He curled his free hand around her back, urging her to arch just a little bit, and she gasped, throwing her head back; his fingers were pushing and pulling, curling deep in her, and it was so utterly unlike her torment that, at last, she took her eyes off him. They slammed shut and she gasped his name over and over, and his thumb flicked over the little bundle of nerves there, and she was gone.

She moaned, long and low, feeling her body spasm and shake with the chemicals her orgasm released, and though he deliberately pressed his fingers in to her, prolonging the feelings, she curled in to his chest, gasping for air, flushed and surprised, murmuring his name between breaths.

“Did I just...did you just...”

He chuckled softly, curling both his arms around her comfortingly, letting her relax against him; she was limp and nearly boneless in the waves of pleasure. “Did that feel good?”

She gasped softly as another little spasm curled through her, “Amazing,” she breathed. “Thank you,” she added, nuzzling in to him.

“I would gladly do that again,” he offered, and he kissed the top of her head, letting her catch her breath. “It helps if you tell me what you like, too,” he murmured, and he stroked her hair away from her face. “We'll learn, as we go,” he promised.

The hormones and pleasure chemicals flooding through her brain left her pliant, and kept her memories at bay. “Are you sure it can get better?”

He laughed, and it was pleasant, tickling her nerves, making her even happier. “I'm sure it will be. I don't know your body as perfectly as I will, one day,” he said, his voice soft. “One day, I hope to know exactly what you love, (Name), so that I can love you perfectly. You deserve the rapturous pleasure of a lover who knows your body well,” he offered.

“Well, I think you already took all the bones out of my body on that one,” she joked, but the comfort and trust made her feel safe. He wasn't pressuring her to continue; if anything, he was promising that he would spend all the time it took to learn her desires and the way her body reacted to better love her. It was an overwhelming thought, that he would give her even more care and love than he had already shown her; his patience was unending and he had been no less than gentle already, despite her hesitation and fear.

He laughed at her, and he nuzzled her hair gently, but her breathing was slowing down, and he could tell that she was already tired. The contending emotions were sure to wear her out, and he didn't want to push her. “Are you alright?” The question was gentle, not meant to pressure, but to make sure she was okay.

“Mm-hmm,” she hummed, and she nuzzled in to his neck softly. “Thank you,” she added, sounding a little more cognitive.

He rubbed her back gently, unable to keep from smiling at that, and he drew her in for a kiss; she felt his smile in it, and she was left giggling softly. Was he truly so pleased to have done that? ...Yes. Of course he was. He loved her, wanted the best for her, and she knew that. She couldn't doubt it. Still, as her body began to come down from the hormonal high, she knew the battle wasn't yet won. This was so much more than they had been able to do before, and time, especially, had helped. Ahkmenrah was patient and loving and gave her everything.

But it was not yet done, and she feared that, if she stopped now, she might never find her strength. She _wanted_ him, wanted to love him, wanted to move beyond what had happened to her, wanted to be sure of herself and to let him love her. She wanted to love herself again, and his patience and giving actions had done much to help.

But this wasn't all, and she nuzzled him softly. “Ahk?”

He heard the catch in her voice, “We can stop, if you aren't ready,” he promised, knowing her torment. He carried her memories, too, after all.

“No, I...I want to, I...but...” She hesitated, and shook her head in his chest, but she finally pulled away to look at him. “Will you...I mean, can we...I don't think I can...I don't think I can be...beneath you,” she finally admitted, and he saw the fear rise like a tide in her eyes, and he held her close when she began to shake. He heard the gasps that she fought to keep down, and he fought to push down the rage that floated to the top of his brain. That monster deserved to have his brain ripped out through his nose.

While he was alive.

But Ahkmenrah would not allow his rage to rise now. Now, he needed gentility and patience, and he would give it all to her. He stroked her hair softly, and he pressed soft kisses to the top of her head, waiting until she calmed a little. “Would you prefer to be astride me? Or on our sides?” The offers were utterly gentle, and just that; offers. They were not obligations, not meant to force her hand, but to draw her away from the darkness of her memories.

She thought for a little while, and shifted. “Can I...can I...be on top? Will you let me?”

He squeezed her gently then, and he bent, asking to kiss her with his eyes, and she let him; she melted in to his embrace then, giving in to him, and she relaxed.

His kisses were utterly different from that monster.

It always reassured her.

“Yes,” he promised. “But if you don't want to do this, I will never force you,” he insisted, meaning it. “If you aren't ready, I will wait forever. I promise you.”

She shook her head immediately. “I...if I don't...I'm afraid that...I'm afraid I never will,” she admitted, and he saw the tears in her eyes.

“Then I promise I'll help,” he assured her, gathering her close, unable to help it. Her tears would be his end.

He began again, kissing her until she had relaxed in to him; he was gentle and soft, at first, taking great care to pull her in to the warmth of desire. He meant to assure her that, no matter the circumstances, he would wait, that he would always help her. That it depended on _her,_ not on him.

He would wait an eternity for her, if she asked him.

But she allowed herself to give in to him, to the soft touches, his kisses, the way he softly nibbled her skin, pulling at her nipples, coaxing her gently until she was aching for him, wanting of his touch and whining softly for his kisses.

At last, though it took a little time, she helped him out of the last of his clothes, too; and she turned crimson instantly. She was unsure, and fearful, but he didn't push her; he brought her close for a kiss, but waited for her again.

She focused on the taste of him, on the way his lips brushed over her skin, the way he drew her in and gave her all the affection she could want.

He distracted her, pleasured her again until the ache and want was back, and this time, in her hungry kiss, he leaned backward, letting her push him back to the bed, and gently kept her close when he could tell she was fighting her dark memories again.

But this was something she must do on her own strength, of her own choice, and he waited for her again, willingly and gladly.

It would be the most precious thing, when she finally came to him of her own accord. He would be honored, and he was not sure he would be able to bear the happiness it would bring him, to know how much she trusted him.

Her lip shook when she pulled away, but he didn't try to pull her back to him. It was her choice now.

He had done his best to ready her, to make sure it wouldn't cause her any pain, that she would be slick and ready and that it would be easy; the first time was for her, and no matter what, he wanted to make sure she enjoyed it. He wanted no pain to interfere with this.

She took a few breaths, shaking ones, but she moved deliberately, one step at a time; the first was to climb astride him, and he laid his hands flat on the bed, to assure her that he wouldn't grab her without her permission. The second step was another few deep, if shaking, breaths. The third was to swallow all her darkness and welcome the future. Ahkmenrah was different. Ahkmenrah truly loved her. She wasn't a toy, she wasn't a...piece of meat, she wasn't anything less than his wife. His beloved wife, mother of his son, and bound to him in her soul.

She forced that thought to take up all her brain, and she reached over him, to the table at the side of the bed; both had agreed that they would not have another child without Evan's permission. The story of his conception still hurt for him, and only with his consent would they give him a sibling.

Although he let out a surprised, pleasured groan, Ahkmenrah didn't stop her; her hands were shaking and she was nervous, but she was determined. The contact felt wonderful, for he'd given her all his attention that night, and he had expected to be the one to do this...but he would relish the fact that she had found the strength to do this for them.

Once that was done, she fought another little mental battle, but she had formed a mantra in her head and focused on that. She could do this. Ahkmenrah wasn't her rapist. Ahkmenrah was her lover, her soul mate, her heart, her other half, and he _loved_ her.

He loved her.

He loved her.

He released another deep, rumbling groan when she grasped him, unable to keep the reaction in, but the way he'd arched in to her assured her that she hadn't hurt him, and she plunged ahead; now or never.

The air left his chest in a rush, and for an agonizing moment, he felt like his lungs were gone again, because it was so much more than he had thought it would be, and he didn't have the control he thought he did; he forcibly gripped the bed clothes, determined not to scare his wife. She had frozen, once she had taken him in, and he could see her mental war, and he tried his hardest to focus only on her.

“(Name),” he breathed, his voice husky, “it's okay, love. You're here with me. If you want to stop, we will,” he said, trying to draw her attention. “You don't have to do this.”

She gave a shaking gasp, and she shook her head, reaching for his hands, and he gave them to her; she held on to him, and his thumb feathered over her skin, and despite the deep ache in his belly that begged him to move, he waited for her.

At last, when he felt his sanity at its edge, she moved; she barely rolled her hips, and he gasped, giving her a groan, unable to keep himself from bucking gently against her movement, and it was her turn to gasp.

It hadn't hurt, not at all, but the memories lingered, and it was so hard to push them down. But his little movement, the sound of his voice drew her away from the darkness, the touch of his hands, the way his thumbs stroked the backs of her hands.

He was _soothing_ her, even though he wanted her so badly.

She rocked again, and he bucked in turn, until they fell in to a haphazard rhythm, and Ahkmenrah couldn't resist any longer; his hands went to her hips, and as gently as he could, he held on to her, gasping her name hoarsely when she rolled forward against him, and his brain blanked out; he cursed in his native tongue, shuddering as she moved over him, his hands guiding her instinctively, helpless to keep full control; it was all he could do to think of being gentle.

But (Name)'s memories were fading and there was a knot in her belly and her movements were getting more urgent and the ache between her thighs demanded all her attention, and Ahkmenrah nearly bit off his tongue when she rolled forward to lean in for a kiss.

It was sloppy, but she knew his taste, the way his mouth moved against hers, and her nails dug in to his shoulders as his body finally broke away; he thrust in to her, earning a cry of his name, followed by a soft little whimper as she twisted her hips, wanting more of that, and he gave in.

He swore in his own language again and it occurred to her that she could understand him, amidst the blurry, half-thoughts forming in her head. Between curses, he was calling her perfect and beautiful and _begging_ her and he wanted her and wanted her to find completion with him, and his thrusts were growing harder, speeding up, then slowing to slip deeper in to her, moving her hips over him, and she could not have been farther from her darkness.

One hand slid from her hip to her thigh, and she shrieked; his thumb was on her again and it was her undoing; she shattered around him, shuddering, frozen, and then a puddle on his chest, gasping for air, unthinking.

He slipped over the edge after her, bucking in to her sporadically, until he was spent, emptying himself, boneless and thoughtless as he curled his arms around her, pressing thankful kisses across the top of her head, dragging air in to his lungs as though they were his last breaths.

Even when she began to calm, (Name) did not find terror in his grip. It was soothing, and he was softly stroking her hair, the movement an absent habit, and he looked near sleep.

She nuzzled in to him again, giving a satisfied sigh.

They had done it.

_She_ had done it. She had found her strength, had overcome her fear, and perhaps it would linger...but she had loved her husband, physically, fully, once.

She would again.

But now, she needed sleep, and she reached up to him, stroking his hair; there was a sheen of sweat around his temples and he smelled musky, and it nearly dragged her under before she could speak. “Thank you,” she slurred.

He, too, was exhausted, but he lifted his head, begging her for a kiss, and though it was a tired one, she gladly gave in to him, and he swore against her mouth when she shifted slightly, his orgasm rippling through his body again. “Perhaps we should climb under the blankets,” he suggested.

She grumbled softly, but reluctantly, she used his chest to sit up, and she finally climbed off him, collapsing at his side.

He waited, but she didn't move again, so he determined to take care of her; he threw away the condom, and then lifted his wife in one arm, dragging the blankets down, and he nestled her there. He pulled the bed clothes up to her shoulders and climbed in after her as soon as he was able. He threw his arm over her, and he could already hear her breathing evening out. “I love you, (Name),” he said, murmuring it against her neck, cuddling her close.

She managed to wake only long enough to return the words, and fell asleep nearly before they were out of her mouth; “I love you, too.”

**_ End Chapter _ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well. For those of you who've stuck with me all this way, I want to thank you all again. I realize the intimacy in this chapter took some time, but I feel it appropriate, considering the situation.
> 
> Anyway, I very much hope that you've all enjoyed this. Thank you for reading, and on this chapter, I do humbly request some feedback—do you all feel I gave the characters their due?
> 
> I'll gladly accept constructive criticism, and happily accept suggestions and such.
> 
> Thank you all again for reading. I hope you enjoyed!
> 
> I'll see you again soon, at the final chapter.


	18. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  ** _DISCLAIMER:_** I do **NOT** own _Night at the Museum_ , or any of its contents, characters, actors, ideas...or anything at all related to it. I never have, and I never will. This is written for fun. I’m dirt poor, so sorry. This is for my entertainment and for those who read this.
> 
> I also don't own anything remotely recognizable in the story; music, devices, brand names or anything; if you recognize it, I don't own it. I make nothing off of anything. None of my works provide me a profit. Basically, **_I own absolutely nothing._** Point blank.
> 
> Well, my dears, here we are: The epilogue.
> 
> It isn't as long as I might have liked it, I admit, but it wrote itself and I feel I've closed it in the best way I can.
> 
> I want to thank all of you, so very much, for sticking with me through all of this. This has been an adventure for me, too, and of all the stories I've written in the past, this is my favorite. I've had so much fun with it, and I want to thank you all for encouraging me.
> 
> You don't know what it means to me, but truly, thank you so very much.
> 
> It's hard to say goodbye, but I must, and I hope you all have enjoyed this as much as I have.
> 
> Now, a final note before you begin to read. I very much suggest the song _Something I Need_ by OneRepublic. A little...feeling for the relationship between Ahk and the reader.
> 
> Enjoy!

**_ Epilogue _ **

(Name)'s eyes felt like lead, but she could hear her alarm buzzing on Ahkmenrah's table. She knew she'd need it to be out of her reach today. She grumbled and burrowed in to her husband's chest, taking in a deep breath of air, and couldn't help smiling when she felt his arm tighten around her. That...was better. That made this early morning far easier, she thought, and she sighed. “Could you...?”

“Mm,” he hummed, and he reluctantly gave up his arm to reach behind him, flipping the alarm off. “We won't have the quiet for long, you know,” he advised, when she snuggled right back in to him.

“Oh, I know it,” she mumbled. “Doesn't mean I'm ready to give you up yet,” she murmured.

He laughed softly, and he bent his head, kissing the top of hers softly, and he squeezed her close to him gently. “Come on. We've a promise to keep, my love,” he whispered. “Shall I let you sleep, and get started on breakfast?”

“Mm,” she whined, but then sighed. “No. I'll come with you,” she finally agreed. “Putting it off won't do me any good.”

He laughed softly again, but he rubbed her back for a moment, before he finally let go, stretching, and he rolled out of the bed and on to his feet in a smooth movement. They made the bed together, and though (Name) was shuffling, they headed in to the kitchen, the house still in the quiet of early morning. The soft, gray light filtered through the windows, and Ahkmenrah just relished in it for a time. Though he had been a living human for a few years now, it was still a small miracle to see the sun every day, and to wake with his wife in his arms. He never took for granted the magic that gave him life, or the sacrifice his loved ones had made.

Still, his wife was struggling to wake—she had been forced to work late—so he set to work. Coffee was the first thing he started, and then he set to work on a big breakfast for his family as (Name) set to work on feeding others of the family—their pets. She had surprised him, after their honeymoon, with a little kitten waiting for him in his son's arms—adopted just for Ahkmenrah.

That kitten had been a Savannah breed, a girl, and her name, to him, had been clear: Sacagawea.

Indeed, their pets had grown in number, and the adoption of another cat had earned the name Teddy. They had each taken after their namesake, and other small, precious creatures had joined the family, with suiting names; a cat named Attila, and two puppies—Jed and Octavius. They hadn't quite found the will to adopt a pet with Dexter's name, yet.

That was just inviting mischief, and they had enough to deal with as it was.

Their four-legged family were well versed on feeding times and rushed in when the first clink of food sounded in their bowls, and Sacagawea, when done, made only two leaps; one to a chair, and the next to Ahkmenrah's shoulder.

She had made herself his personal guardian, and Ahkmenrah had loved her the moment he saw her; he never protested her riding around on his shoulder, or when she'd stretch out around his neck and his wife's as they cuddled on the couch.

He took a moment out of his work to reach up to scratch her head, and she nuzzled his cheek in turn, and it was back to work.

The quiet morning—aside from soft, playful growls from the dogs—was finally disrupted when breakfast was nearly done, “Daddy!”

The cry was high and excited, and Sacagawea leaped from her perch, knowing what was coming; Ahkmenrah bent and scooped up the source of the sound, “Good morning!” His grin was immense, “Did you sleep well, Neferet?”

“Yeah, Daddy! Do we get to go today? Mama was really late last night!”

His eyes narrowed, “And what on earth were you doing up that late?”

“I was too excited to sleep!”

He relented, and laughed, and lifted his head to kiss her forehead.

It had taken time, but Evan had, eventually, come to understand what had happened to his mother. It was not easy for him, and both parents knew it, but on a late night when they had watched a movie, their son had inquired about a sibling.

Evan had been curious, and worried, and he had talked to his parents for a long time; they had explained, in gentle terms, due to his age, what it would mean and what would happen and they reminded him that, often, if he had a sibling, they would have to give his younger sibling their attention.

Evan had thought on it. But the child had earned his father's intelligence in spades, and even before Ahkmenrah came in to his life, (Name) and her mother had done their best to raise him well, and the boy had understood.

On their next movie night, he'd said that, if they wanted...well, he would be okay with a sibling.

(Name) had come far. She was not sure she could ever bear to be beneath Ahkmenrah, and he never did anything to suggest that he wanted such, but lovemaking had become easier. The memories were dulling, replaced with the genuine love Ahkmenrah showed her, and though she might never truly, fully forget or heal...well, her husband was a miracle in himself, and he ever loved her with the patience of ages.

They had talked, too.

Ahkmenrah admitted that, though he loved Evan dearly, and had seen in (Name)'s memory his early years, he would love to have a daughter of his own, to raise her where he had been unable to be with Evan. He had always wanted a daughter; perhaps it was because he was a “mama's boy” himself, or because his brother had been so wicked, he had always wanted a little girl for himself.

Of course, that was yet to be determined; if they had a child and it was a little boy...well, Ahkmenrah would still love his new son as much as he loved Evan.

With discussion and thought, they made sure Evan would be alright with having a baby brother or sister. With his permission, they agreed; one more little one.

(Name) had glowed, Ahkmenrah insisted, but she had felt anything but; it was more difficult this time, though she still thought she had it easy, compared to the tales her mother had told her.

Ahkmenrah helped. Always.

Evan, too, looked after his mother, and (Name) took comfort in knowing she was so loved.

The Egyptian gods seemed generous, for Ahkmenrah got his wish; a daughter with her mother's eyes, and her father's dark hair.

Evan loved her. Indeed, he wanted to look after her as much as his parents, and he spent long hours teaching her as she grew, and the little girl was never lacking love or affection from her family.

Ahkmenrah had named her “Neferet,” for he knew she would be beautiful, and for the gods.

“Nef!” That was Evan—his voice had lowered, a little, and he had grown; he was nearly to his mother's shoulder already, and he'd, as she feared, turned out to be a handsome boy. But he was mature for his age and, though others of his age might have shunned their little sisters, Evan embraced her happily. He was old enough, now, to know _exactly_ what had happened to his mother, and he had determined to never do that to someone, nor to let it happen to his baby sister. “Ready for today?”

Today was special. Today, they were going back to the museum for the very first time since they'd left. It would be hard...but Evan had talked so much about the museum and its wonders, Neferet had wanted to see it herself.

The little girl reached for her brother, and Evan took her carefully from his father; Ahkmenrah turned back to breakfast with ease; he knew Evan would care for his little sister. “I wanna see everything, Ev! I wanna see Rexy first!”

Evan had, with his parent's warnings, told her what others would remember; animatronics and actors, and had told her, too, that they didn't work anymore, but the little girl was still insistent on seeing history for herself.

(Name) flew through the kitchen door and swept the two in to an enormous hug, lifting even Evan a few inches off the floor, “How are my babies? Are we ready?”

“Mooom!” Evan's indignant cry merely earned him a grin, and a gentle prod to the ribs; his half-laughed shriek set his father laughing, too. Still, once he was free, he kissed his mother on the cheek. “You were out late. We still get to go, right?”

“You'd never forgive me if we didn't!” She was teasing, a grin on her lips, “Daddy made coffee. I'm good to go,” she assured, and she ruffled his hair; poor Evan seemed to have rolled out of bed and dashed to the kitchen, “Will you set out plates, please?”

Evan nodded, and he set to work, Neferet following him nearly every step, much to the delight of their parents. (Name) leaned her hip on the counter, smiling after them. “We're lucky,” she murmured.

“Very,” Ahkmenrah agreed, and he leaned in, drawing her in to a soft kiss, and he felt her sigh in to it, melting in to him. No matter the passing years, and perhaps even in spite of them, (Name) had not found her love faint for her husband. If anything, it grew and grew, and Ahkmenrah felt the same.

He curled his hand gently around the back of her neck, drawing her close, and she moved willingly in to him, lifting her arms to put them around his neck, breaking away only when she needed to breathe. “I love you,” she murmured softly.

He smiled, a slow and wide one, “I love you, too.”

Breakfast was a leisurely affair; (Name)'s mother shuffled in late, but she joined them and complimented Ahkmenrah on his cooking, as usual. She promised to look after the house and the pets and shooed them all off when (Name) lingered, fussing over her mother and if it was too much, but the elder woman gave her a single look, and it was done.

Their children were mercifully well behaved, even in a car, and after eating lunch, they headed for the museum.

Ahkmenrah's feet faltered at the foot of the stairs, and he looked at the building. It was the same as ever, and it seemed an empty echo of his memories.

After all, many years of his life had been spent within those walls.

But his wife took his hand, and she pulled him close, drawing him in to a kiss; it was her turn to sooth him. She held his hands and rubbed her thumbs over the backs of his hands, smiling gently.

“We'll meet them again, Ahk,” she murmured, her voice soft. “One day. And for now...you have us,” she soothed, smiling.

Ahkmenrah took a deep breath, taking her words in with it, and looked at her for a long time, and then at his son, and his daughter. “Well. I think we promised them stories...so let's continue ours,” he decided, at last, and he nodded, reassured by his wife and children.

Neferet reached up toward her father, and he bent to gather her in to his arms, and with (Name)'s hand curled gently in his elbow, as she had done so long ago, Evan squeezed his father's shoulder, and they strode, together, in to the museum.

Indeed, Ahkmenrah and (Name) meant to have the longest of tales to tell their dear friends, and they were writing it, each moment, with each other and their children.

**_ The End _ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well. There we have it; the ending, as the characters presented it.
> 
> I admit it's difficult to think that I won't update this again...but I feel it's complete.
> 
> I hope you've all enjoyed this as dearly as I have, and I hope that the ending is as fulfilling as you wish it.
> 
> Thank you all, again, so very much, for coming on this ride with me, for your comments and compliments and just...everything.
> 
> Thank you all so much.
> 
> If you should want to strike up a conversation or just talk, feel free to comment. I do take requests, but I should warn you that my brain is a little fickle; sometimes it only works when it's in a mood.
> 
> I should also like to let you know that, if any of you are artsy (I am decidedly not. I can't even draw stick figures!) and want to make art of this, I would love to see it! Indeed, if you like, I can even make a note of it somewhere on the notes of the story with credit to you.
> 
> Thank you all again!


End file.
